Unbidden
by Caya
Summary: Life lessons at Hogwarts: wishes gone wrong, exotic magic, conspiracy theories and uncommon 'ships sailing (the flagship's Snape/Angelina); see them all for just two knuts ! Current chapter : Dumbledore discusses drugs and love (not related !).
1. Angelina

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Disclaimer : (brace yourself, this is longish, but I promise to only do it once) Anything and anyone in or around Hogwarts that you recognise belongs to JKR, long may she write. The concept of Zinstgi, or Zingsti, as well as a few characters have been taken out of Jane Jensen's poetic game Sins of The Fathers, the first in the Gabriel Knight series, published by Sierra ... visit The Underdogs at if you want to learn more about it and also to download a scan of the original game booklet (which tells more about Zinstgi) - I tried to put it up on my webpage but even the .zip was too large for my meagre webspace. However, concepts similar to Zinstgi abound in fantasy literature, from the Recognition of Elfquest, to the Eyra of Glenraven, to the Valin of Krynn, just to name a few, so I probably mixed it all a bit, I am afraid. I first saw (and liked, and borrowed) the concept of multiple PoV chapters in GRRM's A Game of Thrones, which would be a great book for you to pass the time till June, btw :). The quotes which appear at the beginning of each chapter are properly attributed whenever I knew an author. Oh, and the ones by a certain Ebenezum are taken from Craig Shaw Gardner's hilarious Ebenezum Trilogy. The concept of regio is pretty widespread as well, but the way it's used in this story is taken from the pen&paper game Ars Magica. In writing this story, there's no profit sought apart from amusing my twisted mind.

Gratitude and hugs go to Autumnmist, who's currently labouring to make this mess become more readable, to Susanna, who guided me when I started out in fanfic and showed me how to grow, to McAmy and Monique for their long mails full of tips and analysis, to Leila Jane, who had the admirable guts to tell me where 'my' Snape just plain sucked, to Sarge for her wonderful picture and of course Abby for letting me make my first steps in fanfic in her own backyard. Ladies, you are great beyond words.

A/N : When I posted an early vignette version of this last May as a timechallenge response, I was absolutely baffled when I received a couple of emails asking me if I were black. So I thought I'd better answer that beforehand this time : nah, I'm run-of-the-mill European. I just think it's an incredible waste of opportunity that Ms. Rowling created such a wonderfully multi-racial and ethnical school and then she never went and used it apart from giving the kids more variety in names.

Chapter One : Angelina

_"Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." - John Lennon_

"And that's another goal for Gryffindooooor !"

Lee's voice boomed over the pitch as Katie scored her fifth goal, then shared a high-five with me and Alicia as we were taking up our formation again. The Slytherins did not stand a chance in hell. And they knew it.

Ah, what a day !

The three of us plus Fred and George were determined that, for our very last match at Hogwarts, we would give the crowd a show like they had never seen before. And so we did – the fact that we were playing against Slytherin was merely the icing on the cake. The weather was perfect this Saturday afternoon, and we were zooming around in the azure sky as if we were born to fly, the brooms merely extensions of our bodies like wings would be. I was so exhilarated by the speed, the joy and the camaraderie, I felt almost drunk. So, when Harry caught the Snitch, I was even a little sorry that we had such an expert Seeker.

Still, a score of 320:20 isn't something you see every day.

When Madame Hooch announced our victory and the final score, I triumphantly grinned over to the Slytherin stands, which were deliciously downcast. The Gryffindor stands, on the other hand, made enough noise for three houses at least.

We flew to the teacher's lounge in perfect formation to accept congratulations from a beaming Headmaster Dumbledore. There were two more matches to be played before the Cup was awarded –Ravenclaw against both Slytherin and Hufflepuff– but none of them had any realistic chances to get their hands on it. Not after _this_ game. 

When we arrived at the teacher's lounge, I allowed myself a quick, triumphant look at Professor Snape, Slytherin's Head of House and scourge of my Potions classes for five years – like every Gryffindor, I'd dropped the class like a hot potato after the O.W.L.s, two years ago. He looked distinctively unhappier than usual, which was saying something these days. Small wonder there – this would be the fourth year that Slytherin would go without the Cup. 

He looked up just as we were about to stop our brooms, his gaze sweeping over us darkly. For the briefest of moments, our eyes met. 

And in this moment, something ... opened. I could not describe it otherwise. But part of me that had been kept deep inside was suddenly free and rushing towards those eyes. And something was coming back and settling where the part I had lost had been. Something – not mine. His. Deep inside me. 

In a sudden flare of panic, as I realised what must have happened, all I could do was clutch at my broomstick so as not to tumble down. When I dimly noticed the teachers scramble away as I continued my path towards the lounge without slowing down, I realised that simply holding on might be too little.

But then, I almost welcomed the darkness that washed over me when I crashed into the wooden stalls.

**********

"Miss Johnson ?"

I forced my eyes open with difficulty. Madame Pomfrey's anxious face was hovering over me, and slowly more details kept appearing. I seemed to be lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing – why would I be there ?

As she noticed I was awake, she sighed with relief and waved her wand over me, checking my readings. I was still groping for memories – what had happened ?

When I suddenly remembered, I wished I hadn't.

Madame Pomfrey clucked her tongue, and said to me, "You are well recovered, my dear, from your little flying mishap – although there is _something_ there that I don't quite understand. But never mind, you seem healthy, so it's probably nothing – if you have any more Inner Ear troubles or anything similar, please do come at once though, do you understand ?"

I nodded, trying to force a smile. _Inner Ear troubles_. Now didn't I wish those had been the cause.

She smiled back at me and said, "Then I'd better go and let your fan club in for a couple of minutes. You should spend the night in here, just in case, but if I don't let them see you I fear they will bring the infirmary door down."

__

Oh dear. For the first time in my life I felt like I'd rather curl up, alone, and hide. But I nodded again and tried to look joyful as my team and several others of my friends descended upon me with hugs, questions and well-wishes. Fortunately, they swallowed my explanation that I'd simply gone dizzy with the joy of the moment. Only Lee kept looking at me quizzically. _Damn – his people are Jamaican, he might know ..._ But then, no reason to panic, I admonished myself – it would still be a far stretch for him to draw the right conclusion. So as to allay his suspicions, I pretended to thoroughly enjoy the impromptu game Fred and George had started, which involved taking Every Flavour Beans and popping them into one's mouth without looking. 

I almost choked on the first one I took, which tasted of wormwood.

Never had I been so thankful for Madame Pomfrey shooing them out of the ward. I gladly let myself be taken over by drowsiness, hoping for a deep and dreamless sleep.

Except for that, of course, it would not come.

I tossed and turned on my hospital bed, half dreaming, half awake. Haunted by a pair of dark eyes. In my dream-state, I gazed into them, but they didn't frighten me as they had during five long years. Not at all. Their gaze seemed to caress me, touch me gently, bring something deep inside me to chime like a bell ...

I awoke with a gasp. My heart was pounding like mad, my sheets were clammy with sweat and I did not want to reflect too closely on the sticky heat between my legs.

I lay still, absentmindedly pushing my hair, wet with cold sweat, out of my face. _No._ _It is only a myth, my mother said. Glorified falling-in-love. Your great-grandma is such an old romantic. _

Tell you what, ma ? You were wrong. It is no myth, and it is neither love nor anything glorious. And not in the least romantic.

Cold moonlight streamed through the windows of the ward, illuminating the empty beds around me. I thought of my friends, my teammates, at this moment probably snoring happily, exhausted from both the game and the long party which I had undoubtedly missed. We had all done our very best to enjoy this, our last year of childhood, before we would venture out into a world that was growing darker again. Such a pack of Gryffindors, Alicia, Katie and I, and Lee, George and ... Fred. _How on Earth am I going to face Fred now ?_ But after all, _he_ was the one who had always insisted that our relationship was purely sexual; not that I had minded that part, though.

I felt lonely as I never had in my entire life. My family was a huge, loveable and totally crazy bunch of folks, and when I had first come to Hogwarts, I had missed them terribly. But my classmates had become my new family soon enough – after all, they too were loveable and totally crazy. And now my world had changed so much in one single, fleeting look that I was not sure how I could ever even begin to explain it to them, even to Lee. Or that I dared to, for starters. If it had been any other ... why, why _him_ ? But I quickly shied away from thinking about _him_ ... I knew that pretending would not make it go away, but I just could not bring myself to face it, yet.

As I lay back again on my cool pillow, I reflected on the bitter irony of the situation. When I had heard my great-grandmother's tales as a little girl, I had wished with all my heart that Zingsti would happen to me one day. It sounded so ... mystic and important. I had lain awake at night, dreaming that one day I would lock eyes with a dark, mysterious stranger, and it would come upon us. 

And now my wish had come true, in a way. A saying of my grandfather came back unbidden. "Be always careful what you wish for, my little Angelina. It comes true more often than not, and your wishes can never again be taken back." I had never understood that before. But now I saw he had been perfectly right.

I lay awake until exhaustion finally claimed me again. But of course his dark eyes were there, beckoning me into strange and frightening dreams.

**********

When I woke up again in my hospital bed, the sun was shining brightly through the open window beside my bed. Madame Pomfrey came hurrying over when she saw me sitting up. "So good to see you awake, my dear," she said, fussing over me. "Nothing like a good, long sleep for healing, though. Do you feel well ? If so, you are allowed to get up – in fact, I have a message from the headmaster, asking you to see him in his office at your convenience, the password being Mozartkugeln." She looked at me questioningly.

I should have expected that, I guessed_. _I tried a harmless lie. "It is probably about the Quidditch match, maybe he wants to congratulate me since he had no chance to yesterday." She swallowed it, bless her. I dressed and made my way out of the infirmary towards Dumbledore's office, careful to avoid the few students who were inside on this beautiful Sunday morning. 


	2. Albus

Chapter Two : Albus

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Contrary to rumour, working side by side with a group of fellow wizards is not the most unpleasant task in which a magician might participate. In fact, I can think of numerous other experiences, such as breaking both arms and legs while being pursued by a ravenous demon, which, under certain conditions, could conceivably be even worse.

from The Teachings of Ebenezum_, Volume XXII_

In my opinion, the single best aspect of being headmaster of a wizarding school was that even at the venerable age of one hundred and fifty-five, I could still occasionally be surprised by the happenings there.

Of course, this was also the single worst aspect sometimes. 

The match yesterday had been really pleasant to watch, surely, and made me proud of the young Gryffindors of today. But that exceptional, intense but brief flash of magical energy that had suddenly passed between Severus and that young Gryffindor Angelina, and that had triggered my most arcane detection spell, was something I had never before encountered, and that worried me; of course, whenever something happened to Severus, it was safe to err on the side of caution and worry, anyway – I had rarely ever gone wrong with that. I dearly loved that young man, but he had caused me more white hairs than the rest of the staff put together.

Of course, he also had a more important duty here than the rest of the staff put together.

Anyway, I had to find out what exactly had happened between the two of them yesterday, which was why I had asked for Angelina to pay a visit to my office.

Lady Fiona from the banquet painting over the entrance of the hospital wing had told me already that she was on her way, so when I heard a knock on my office door I called out, "Come in, Angelina !" and beamed at her when she entered. 

I had considered talking to Severus first. But my choice had fallen on Angelina for two reasons. First, I vaguely remembered a tale an old friend had told me, long ago, during the Osoosi Wars, and what I remembered showed some similarities to what had occurred yesterday. So there was a slight chance that the girl, with her long line of African wizard and witch ancestors, might know something about what had happened, too.

The other reason, of course, being that it was difficult to deal with Severus at the best of times. And I did not expect him to be happy with the results of whatever it was that had happened yesterday. So I was avoiding that unpleasant confrontation for now; which some might call a cowardly act. But, as Headmaster Stewart's portrait was fond of saying, "The difference between a bold Gryffindor and an old Gryffindor is that the latter one knows which fights to pick and which to avoid." I, for one, had certainly passed from the former into the latter stage long ago.

As Angelina took her seat on the opposite side of my desk, I surreptitiously studied her facial expression. Weariness, underlying tones of panic, as well as a certain sadness and despair. But no trace of confusion there.

That settled my first question. She definitely had an idea of what had happened. And she was none too pleased about it.

So I put on my best grandfatherly smile and addressed her, "First, let me congratulate you to your fine flying in the match yesterday, Angelina. As a fellow Gryffindor, I am very proud of your spectacular team performance. Your Head of House will surely wish to congratulate you later, as well."

She mumbled her thanks, not quite meeting my eye. Yes, she certainly knew something, but she was not very keen on talking about it – understandably so. I sincerely regretted having to put the girl through this, but this matter –any matter concerning Severus so directly, in fact– was too serious for me not to probe further. So I kept my tone steady as I added, "But you know that is not the only matter I would like to discuss with you."

She looked up now, her eyes bleak, and nodded. "Yes, sir. I expected you would want to talk about the Zinstgi."

__

Zinstgi ? I did not recognise the term. So I merely nodded and answered, "Indeed I do. You must understand that anything happening between a member of my staff and one of the students is a cause of some concern to me."

Now _that_ caused a sudden flash of fear pass her face, and she shifted in her seat uneasily. I hid my surprise – the remark had been meant as a general statement, but she had obviously taken it in a more ... private matter. 

Which, of course, did not serve to make the situation any less complicated. I stifled a sigh and said in my best soothing tones, "No need to look so afraid, Angelina. I know very well that neither did you cause it to happen nor did you have any choice in the matter." Both of which I knew had to be true; the latter was easily proven by her unhappy mien and the former she just wasn't capable of – the girl was a great flier and showed considerable talent for body magic, but otherwise was none too great a witch. And yesterday, after a couple of detection spells, I had hit that strange, new bond that had been formed between her and Severus with a couple of unravelling spells to learn more about it, gentle ones to test its strength at first, then, more and more baffled, with the best I could do without a complicated ritual and the presence of at least one of them. 

It had not so much as even budged. No student could have caused that. In fact, I'd wager no wizard alive, of any proficiency, probably could have.

Angelina looked up with tears shimmering in her dark eyes. "Thank you, Sir," she said. "I am so glad you understand – I did not think any white man would."

Ah yes, that confirmed my suspicion about this magic being African in origin. Which meant I had better hit my private library in the afternoon – while Professor Vector probably knew about this Zingsti I was not sure whether to entrust her with that question; too much was potentially at stake.

But I had tortured the poor girl long enough – one thing remained to be settled, though. So I addressed her again, "I do indeed, Angelina – but I am not sure Professor Snape does, too." She blanched slightly at the mention of his name. "You ought to talk to him ... however, I suppose we agree that, before you do, I better have a little chat with him this afternoon." Angelina nodded to that, looking visibly relieved. I smiled and continued, "So there only remains one more thing to be settled, and then I will let you rejoin your friends, who no doubt await your return eagerly as an excuse to do something fun and probably forbidden by school rules."

"I know that you are an adult and so, of course, is Professor Snape." This sentence caused her to blush, which confirmed my earlier suspicions about the nature of this Zingsti. So I continued, "The fact that you are no longer a student of his nor in his house of course makes the situation a lot easier. Still, I must urge you –and I will repeat this to Professor Snape– to exercise both caution and discretion in what you do. As you said, not everybody will understand, and it might tarnish both your reputations, as well as the school's and mine." Then, to lift the poor girl's spirit a little at least, I added, "If this is any consolation, though, I will order Professor Snape that from now on he is to strictly treat you as an adult and not as a student in this matter. You have enough on your mind without worrying about house points or detention, and after all it _is_ between the two of you in private and not a school affair."

She mumbled her thanks, and I dismissed her with a last encouraging smile. Then I went to pen a note for Severus, asking him to visit me for tea – which would give me a little time to browse my books, getting a clearer idea of that bond since I now knew what approximately I had to look for. 

As I was tossing the note into the flames, sending it on its way to his office, Fawkes appeared in a ball of flames on his perch, then flew to me and alighted on my shoulder, affectionately nibbling my earlobe. I stroked his beautiful plumage and told him, "I am glad you are back, old friend. You certainly missed some action here." Then I carefully untied the message attached to his leg and settled behind my desk to read what my Asian colleague had to tell me, Fawkes making himself comfortable in my lap.

When I had finished, I shook my head. That news was as welcome as it was unexpected, but why did work always arrive in spades ? It was not as if I were one hundred anymore ...


	3. Fred

Chapter Three : Fred

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"There's only one way to hurt a man who's lost everything. Give him back something broken." - Stephen R. Donaldson

"What is it, Gbo ?"

Angelina's meerkat familiar suddenly reared himself up on his hind legs and sniffed the air. I hoped that meant his mistress was finally returning to the room she and Alicia shared; I was getting lonely and George and Alicia no doubt had lots of fun already in _our_ room.

Indeed the door opened and in walked Angelina, looking somewhat off-key, which surprised me. Well, she _had_ had a bad crash yesterday, but given Madame Pomfrey's admirable skills she surely should be up and good by now. So I got up to embrace her, saying, "It's good to see you back, Angie ... I missed you."

Angelina returned my embrace, but she seemed oddly stiff and withdrawn, which left me to wonder if maybe I had done something wrong – but I could not think of anything recent. And she also patted the gaily cheeping Gbo in an almost absentminded way. Was it _that_ time of the month ? Oh damn ... no, wait, that had been last week.

Well, I had never pretended to understand women, so maybe I should risk a straight question ... if I _had_ done something wrong that would earn me additional wrath and probably meant no nooky today, but better a small risk than being left in the dark. So I sat down on her bed again and drew her down beside me, which she did not resist, and looked into her eyes, asking, "Is there something wrong, Angelina ?"

That simple question brought a sheen of tears to her eyes, which startled me. But she shook her head and answered, "No, Fred, it's ... it's okay. I am just a little tired. Madame Pomfrey can be somewhat tiresome if she has no one to fuss over but you." 

Now I had never pretended to understand women, as I said. But even I could see a lie so blatant.

Angelina was watching Gbo, who, satisfied that she had returned, proceeded to climb on the windowsill and lie down there on his back, exposing his dark belly to the bright sunshine and shutting his eyes, his little face bearing an expression of total comfort and satisfaction with the world at large. Suddenly she turned around to me again, her expression fierce as before a match, and said, "Never mind, Fred, it really is nothing. Come, let us have a little fun together."

Now a man of morals probably would stop right here, insisting on the truth, biding her not to use him simply as a tool for distraction from whatever was bothering her. 

But I had never claimed to be a man of morals. 

Besides, I could still ask her about her troubles later, if they persisted, I reasoned ... if not, all the better. So I pulled her into an embrace, kissing her, and soon enough we were busy relieving each other of our school robes.

For all her withdrawn air, her beautiful, dark body was surprisingly ready for me, her folds accepting my hand's touch willingly and melting under it. I briefly toyed with the idea of us having a little of the more extravagant fun –two bodies as toned up as ours were able to have fun in so many positions not even I could have imagined beforehand– but then decided that since she had come here straight out of the hospital wing, we should better play it safe for today, and simply positioned myself over her prone form, entering her inviting wetness. She slung her legs around me, and I started thrusting, losing myself in the sensation.

Or rather, I expected to lose myself in the sensation. For something was ... wrong today. Angelina was below me, pliant and enfolding me within her, matching my thrusts, and our bodies were together ... but our minds were not. Now that was something I had never expected, or indeed stopped to contemplate ... none of us had ever pretended that we were each other's great love, it was a simple matter of sharing comfort and fun. And yet, even while my body was picking up its pace seemingly by itself, and hers matched mine, I realised that something had changed, that the act had, it seemed, brought us together in spirit as well as in body before – but no longer. Her body was mine, willingly yielded itself to my thrusts, and yet her mind was beyond my touch in a way I could not comprehend. 

When we came together, I felt tears flood my eyes even as the waves of pleasure spread through my body. Angelina, her eyes as wet as mine, caught me and held me close, whispering in my ear, "Don't cry, Fred, darling, it has nothing to do with you ... it is okay ... this is none of your fault." But for the first time in my life, I could not hold back my tears. I buried my head in her soft hair and cried.

There was nothing worse than losing something precious you never even knew you had.


	4. Severus

Chapter Four : Severus

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"OK, we can do this the hard way, or...well, actually, there's just the hard way." - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

I checked the watch above the mantelpiece and shut the tome I had been reading –"Little-Known Curses; A study in less-trodden Dark paths"– with a sigh ... it was not as if I had found anything in it even related to the one cast upon me yesterday, and if I did not start out now, I would be late for my 'tea and chat' with Albus. Of course, I could take the internal Floo and save time, but then I would miss the chance to check on the student's behaviour on my way.

Twenty-five points from Gryffindor and ten points apiece from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff later I arrived at Albus's office, my mood no better. The fact that Albus had called on me on his own, thereby saving me the humiliation of having to seek out his help on how to undo this strange curse, did little to lift my spirits – I knew I could trust the old man, but there were certain ... private details in the workings of this curse that I would rather have avoided sharing.

But, loathe as I was to admit it, that blasted spell had never so much as wavered yesterday under my best counter-curses. Which was about the only thing that stopped me from storming the hospital wing and deducting two hundred points from Gryffindor from that Johnson brat – I remembered her being a mediocre student at best, even for a Gryffindor, and there was no way she could have been the one to cast something like that. Maybe I should have done it anyway – but that would have meant explaining my behaviour to Poppy, which would have done nothing to better my mood.

No, I was pretty sure that this was the result of Voldemort's perverse sense of humour concerning vengeance. Which only left the question of just how he had managed to pull it off ... there was no way he could have had eye contact with either of us. Ah well, better ask Albus that, I thought resignedly – it was not as if I had found any logical answer on my own. I knocked on his door and entered.

Albus was sitting in front of his fireplace, a steaming teapot, two cups and a plate full of scones in front of him, beaming up at me. I sat down opposite him, scowling. He knew full well the situation was not at all funny for me and I really wished, sometimes, he'd take his gaiety and stuff it somewhere I would not have to witness it any more.

Albus seemed unperturbed by my scowl, and poured us some tea, saying, "So nice you could join me for tea, Severus. As you know, we have something important to discuss; but still, I would first like you to read this. Fawkes brought it this morning; he was visiting his brother in Tibet."

I took the proffered parchment and read it, recognising the tiny, neat script as belonging to Albus's Asian colleague, head of the oldest branch of the Order of the Phoenix. As I scanned the message, my eyes widened. If the sender had been any other, I would have dismissed it as a hoax. 

I turned to Albus. "A _Japanese-American Muggle_ ?"

He nodded, smiling. "One of her forefathers obviously was given to travelling far."

I still had trouble believing it. "How on earth did they find her ?"

"Well, they had invited her for a completely different reason," Albus answered. "Do you remember those stories that Madame Maxime told us last year, about that Muggle werewolf- and vampire-hunter ? She used to be his, umm, companion."

I remembered the tale ... given how many breaches of the magical seclusion act we had nowadays, even Muggles sometimes understood what was really going on in this world, and a few took up Auror-like professions. However, that American novelist Madame Maxime had told us about was the first one I ever heard of to survive beyond his first encounter with any hostile denizen of the magical world.

"Judging by the fact that it says here she's pregnant, I assume she was more than that. And I gather you still have not introduced that American guy to Remus, more's the pity." That earned me a stern look, which I flatly ignored. "Well, even though the child's probably going to be a Muggle, too, this is still great news. And the woman is safe as can be in Tibet."

Albus nodded. "Indeed. Well, since you have read it now, allow me ..." he shot the paper a glance, and it turned to dust. Then he leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea. "But welcome as this news is, it was not what I wanted to talk about with you when I wrote my invitation."

I nodded, my mood sinking again, and gritted my teeth. "Yes. I require your help in breaking whatever curse it was that was placed upon me and that Gryffindor yesterday, Albus." 

Albus slowly shook his head. "I am afraid, my dear boy, that it is not going to be as simple as that."

That answer left me stunned for a second. Here I was, swallowing my pride and asking him for help, and all I got was a rebuke ? Only my hard-gained trust in the old man kept me from storming out then and there. Instead, I gave him the benefit of doubt, and said, trying to keep my voice neutral, "Please elaborate on that."

His eyes searched mine. "What I meant, Severus, is that I cannot do it. No one can, since it is not even a curse to begin with."

I felt heat flush my face. "What do you mean, it is no curse ? Trust me, one night like the one I had, and you would call it a curse, too. And what do you mean, you cannot break it ? You never failed to break any of Voldemort's spells, even if it took some time on occasion."

Albus shook his head again. "Wrong again, Severus. Voldemort did not cast it. No one cast it, in fact."

I closed my eyes, asking my ancestors to grant me patience. "You are making even less sense than usual, old man."

He sighed. "You are right in your assertion of me, as always. Maybe I should start at the beginning and tell you what I know about this ... condition of yours."

I fought a sneer, and failed. "_Maybe_ that would be a good idea, yes."

That brought a smile to his lips, damn his miserable old hide. He began, "I found a reference to this condition in a tome about African wizardry. Apparently its existence is widely known, but almost as widely regarded as a myth, among the local wizarding populace there."

__

African wizardry ? Well, that girl _was_ black, but her family had been in England for decades to the best of my knowledge – indeed, there had been a black Gryffindor beater Johnson in my time, who must have been her uncle or such. And I still thought she could not have managed to be the one responsible for that curse – let Albus call it a condition, if he insisted.

Albus continued, "Its name is variously given as Zingsti, Zinstgi, Ayorah, Eyra, and a dozen other local names. Apparently, even the Muggles there have some obscure legends about it. It is regarded –that is, when it is not thought to be merely a myth– as an extremely rare act of fate itself, and one of utmost importance both for the man and woman involved and for their tribes and the fates of their people."

"Sounds like hedge-wizardry hogwash to me," I commented. "And I do not believe in 'acts of fate itself'."

Albus seemed unperturbed. "You, dear boy, should be the first one to realise that myths can be frighteningly more real than those who delight in telling them know." 

__

That shut me up.

"So this Zingsti," he continued as if I had never interrupted him, "is regarded as a means of bringing two people together who otherwise never would have been a pair, and who together have a task so important that it cannot be foregone. It is impossible to break, renounce, or defy. And while a pair of people united by this fate-bond can bring much good into this world, a pair that fails to honour the task they are meant to achieve can sow great evil that lasts for generations. Or so," he concluded, "my books told me."

It _still_ sounded like superstitious hogwash to me. But since Albus had sounded so sincere, I did not voice that again. Instead, I probed, "So you refuse to break that curse because you believe it is important ?"

He sighed again. "No, Severus, I do not refuse to break that bond between you. In fact, I tried to, yesterday. It never so much as budged under the strongest counter-spell I hit it with."

That sentence hit me like a torrent of icy water. I had never, ever heard Albus admit something like that. Even with Voldemort's worst curses –those where there was still something left of his victims that could be saved, that is– his answer had always been, "It is a bit difficult to undo this without proper preparation. Give me a little time." And he had been able to dispel them, in the end, every single time.

I had never heard, or indeed imagined, that any spell could withstand the power of Albus Dumbledore.

I tried to find words. "Well, that refutes my theory that Voldemort is the one to have cast this curse. I am not yet sure whether to find this a relief."

He shook his head. "Voldemort has nothing at all to do with it. In fact, utmost care should be taken that he does not learn about it, either. You know what is at stake. And young Angelina is now in it, too."

I stared at him. "What do you mean ?"

He matched my stare. "I meant that, whatever fate has decided it has in store for you and Miss Johnson, we can be safe to assume that it has not chosen you because you are the head of _Slytherin_."

I shook my head. "No. This has nothing to do with anyone but me. This is my responsibility and my duty, for now, and I will not have any meddling Gryffindors involved. Neither Potter nor this Miss Johnson."

Albus smiled a sad little smile. "I do not think that fate has asked you, my dear boy."

I buried my head in my hands. "That is just about what I needed. One would think that we had enough on our hands with Voldemort back, but no, some ancient African curse descends upon me and I find myself bound to a Gryffindor girl, of all people."

"A young woman, I'd rather say, Severus," Albus corrected me. "Miss Johnson turned eighteen half a year ago."

"As if I needed reminding that she is a _woman,_ Albus," I spat. "That Zingsti does the job admirably each time I as much as let my thoughts wander, or close my eyes."

He sighed. "Yes, I am aware of this ... aspect of the bond. Normally, I do not look too favourably upon student-teacher relationships. However, I don't see your having any choice in that matter. Besides, even if circumstances were different, she is not your student anymore and she's well of age, so I see little potential for trouble there. Still, I would be grateful if the two of you could exercise discretion, until she graduates at least."

I stared at him. "Do you even realise what you have just said ? I _cannot_ do that !"

His tone was gentle as he said, "I do not think you can _not_ do it, Severus."

I got up abruptly. I simply had to leave now, or I would say something that I knew I would regret later – it was hard to remind me of that right now, but I _did_ cherish the old man's friendship.

As I reached the door, he called after me. "Oh, and one last thing, Severus. From now on, anything –and I mean _anything_– that happens between you and Angelina is to be treated _strictly_ as a matter in private, between adults. There will be no loss of house points, no detentions, no threatening of expulsion, you understand me ? She is no better off than you and I will not have you frighten her."

As if I had needed _that_ absurd order to ruin my day, I fumed, as I left his office.


	5. Angelina

Chapter Five : Angelina

_"I think true happiness can only be found in the wanton indulgence of animals." – Hobbes_

I trudged back up the hill from Hagrid's hut to the castle, weary to the bones. Normally Monday was my favourite school day of the week – Medimagic in the morning and Advanced Beastcare in the afternoon – but after a weekend like this, and a night with very little sleep, I needed all my willpower not to simply remain lying in my bed, willing the world to stay outside. Even Hagrid, usually preoccupied with his 'beasties', had seen my condition and sent me off half an hour early to "get sum' tea an' feel bettah." Not likely, but I appreciated the thought. 

The weather continued to be nice and pleasant, feathery white clouds drifting in an azure sky, and the grass under my feet was sweet and fragrant, but none of this lifted my spirits like it usually did. Absentmindedly, I let my gaze sweep over the grounds, still deserted as classes were not yet finished but without doubt soon swarming with fellow students; whom I rather felt like avoiding at the moment. 

Especially Fred – whatever I did, it could only add to the hurt I had caused him without ever wanting to, so I thought it would be better if I kept away from him for a few days as much as I could, to let the wound heal a bit. I longed for his familiar touch, for his easy laughter, for all the things we had shared – but I would not hurt him any more than I already had. I would not repeat yesterday's mistake, no matter how much I wanted to be with him.

I was shaken out of my gloomy musings when I realised that the ground was not completely deserted. A huge black dog was ambling downhill from the castle in my direction, no human master to be seen anywhere. He seemed a bit big for a familiar, so maybe he was a friend of Fang's or just one of the many critters visiting Hagrid occasionally for a pet and a snack. He must have noticed me about the same time, for he started, sniffed the air, then tilted his head, looking at me and wagging hesitantly. 

I had to smile despite myself ... for such a huge hound, he could look positively small and cute, and he seemed to be well aware of that. But since I had never really been able to withstand any dog's gaze, I crouched on my haunches, stretched my hand in his direction and cooed.

This seemed to be all the invitation he needed, for he came closer, wagging more enthusiastically, and put his huge head into my hand after briefly sniffing it. I started to pet him, then found the soft spot behind his ears, which caused him to close his eyes and give a pleased sigh. 

I just had to chuckle. "If only humans were as easy to understand or please as you dogs," I told him. That caused him to open his eyes and look at me quizzically. What a bright boy ... he almost seemed to understand me; but then, Gbo sometimes gave me that impression, too. So I smiled at him and said, "It's nothing, doggie ... I'm just having trouble with a particular human these days."

He looked in my eyes for a moment, then gave a small whine, flopped on the grass and rolled on his back, exposing his soft belly fur. I smiled again; "What wisdom in a dog's philosophy," I told him, "there is nothing so bad that a good belly rub cannot make it better, huh ?" So I buried my hands in his dark fur, stroking him, and he yipped softly.

"Your hair is as dark as his, do you know that ?" _Now where had that come from ?_ For once, I was starting to relax a bit, but no sooner the Zingsti got a grip on me again, it seemed. I sighed, my good mood gone as quickly as it had come.

The dog, seemingly sensing this, rolled over again, looked at me questioningly and gave my hand a little lick. So I started to pet him again absentmindedly, telling him, "It has nothing to do with you, doggie. It is just ... I am in such a mess. It would not be so bad, I think, if it hadn't been _him_, of all people; but now he has my body and soul in his grip, day and night. He of the foul, unjust temper and hatred of the Gryffindors ... tell me, what have I done to deserve this ?" I sighed, "Look at me, here I am, talking to a dog. But you do me good, doggie. I just had to talk to someone about this, and who would not laugh at me if I told them that my body was aching for Professor Snape ?"

There. I had said the name. I had finally brought myself to it. Somehow, I felt better.

However, it had a startling effect on the dog. The hairs on his back started to rise, and he emitted a low growl. 

What a curious reaction ... but before I could contemplate it further, I noticed some movement out of the direction of the castle. I turned my head and saw Harry, my Quidditch team-mate, sprint towards the two of us, a puzzled look on his face. "Hello, Harry !" I called out to him.

"'Lo, Angelina !" he answered when he had arrived, panting. The dog got up and sniffed him, wagging frantically. He addressed it, "Weren't you supposed to be checking if Hagrid's class had already finished, Snuffles ? But never mind, I will do that, I have been told to send you back to Dumbledore's office."

The dog gave a small bark, then turned to me, nudging my hand for farewell, and started to run towards the castle in large strides. He really was a most remarkable dog, I mused. "What a bright one," I said to Harry. "He seemed to understand you pretty well. Do you know him ?"

He nodded, a smile on his lips. "Oh yes, that he does; unless he pretends not to understand. And yes, I know him; that's Snuffles, he's Professor Lupin's dog. Lupin is visiting Dumbledore at the moment."

"A werewolf with a dog ?" I had to smile, that was an odd concept. But that would explain why he understood human speech so well; Professor Lupin probably understood dogs a great deal better than the average wizard and so could have taught him a lot. It also explained his reaction to Snape's name, I realised. 

Harry nodded, then said, "Excuse me, Angelina, but I have to go and check with Hagrid. Have a nice afternoon !" 

"You too !" I answered, and then, as Harry continued down towards the hut, I resumed my way up the hill towards the castle. But somehow, the load on my shoulders seemed a little lighter than before.


	6. Remus

Chapter Six : Remus

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"All my life I always wanted to be somebody. I see now I should have been more specific." - Lily Tomlin 

The door to the headmaster's office blasted open, almost blown off its hinges by the force it had been slammed with. In strode Sirius, eyes ablaze with fury.

"What has that greasy git done to that nice black girl in Harry's team ?"

Albus and I exchanged an exasperated look. This, I assumed, was _precisely_ what he had been trying to avoid by sending Sirius off on some errand before telling me of this matter.

Albus's smile seemed a bit strained as he answered Sirius. "I assure you that, despite whatever information you seem to have received, Severus has done nothing at all to Angelina. I furthermore ensure you that he himself is very miserable about the current situation. Will these two bits of information help you calm down a little so that I can start this tale at the beginning ?"

Sirius shot Albus a distrustful look, but settled in a chair opposite his desk regardless, seething quietly.

Albus turned towards me. "No need for you to hear the same tale twice, Remus. If you want to, you can go and have a chat with Minerva or some other friends in the meantime; I'll see you at supper, then, and we all will continue the more serious discussion afterwards."

I nodded, trying to hide my relief and thankfulness from Sirius, and bade them goodbye. Sirius had been living with me for close to a year now, and while I dearly loved my old friend, his temper often put me to the limits of my patience. Albus, who seemed to understand that fairly well, had generously given me a chance to take a break while taking the task of calming Sirius on himself, for which I could have kissed the old man.

I walked down the corridors of Hogwarts, chatting with the portraits here and there, with no clear target in mind – and then smiled when I realised that my feet had instinctively carried me towards Gryffindor tower. I bade good afternoon to the Fat Lady, who welcomed me warmly, then took the corridor to the main gate, thinking that maybe I'd take a stroll down to the lake.

"Professor Lupin !"

I looked up from my musings and saw none other stand before me than Angelina Johnson, having just entered the castle. "Hello, Angelina !" I answered, trying to sound joyful and let none of the sorrow I felt for the poor girl swing in my voice.

She smiled a little and said, "Harry told me you were here on a visit. You have a really sweet dog, Professor !"

__

So that is how he got to know about it, by doing his 'loveable stray' routine. Still the old show-off. I smiled back and said, "Oh, he is bright, but exceptionally stubborn at times. And please, call me Remus. All this 'Professor' makes me feel like an old man." 

She nodded. "Okay ... Remus. But really, he is cute – and he almost seems to understand what you say ! When I said 'Professor Snape', he growled ..." she realised what she had said and blushed.

I pretended not to have noticed and answered with a smile, "Which only goes to show his intelligence, don't you agree ?" which earned me a giggle and a nod. 

On an impulse, I added, "I was about to take a stroll down the lake. Would you care to accompany me, Angelina ? I would like to know how the Gryffindors fare these days, and Harry has gone off to Hagrid so I cannot burden him with my curiosity." If the girl had presumably been talking to someone whom she considered to be a dog, she had to be in dire need of an outsider to pour her heart out to, I figured. I just hoped she still trusted me – it had been more than two years since I had last seen any of the kids at Hogwarts.

She looked at me quizzically, but then nodded, and we made our way outside again. The sun was still shining brightly, and a slight breeze moved the pleasantly warm air, as we made our way down, she telling me about house points and Quidditch matches and the first- and second-years I did not know.

When we reached the lake and sat down on the shore, she was silent for a moment. Then suddenly she looked me straight in the eyes and asked, "Remus, have you ever wished for something so much, and when you got it, you suddenly realised that it was all wrong ?"

A cold shiver ran down my spine – that question had, unintentionally, hit far too close to the mark. I closed my eyes for a moment, battling with myself. And then I thought of Severus and knew that girl could use all the help I could give her, and that I had to answer.

So I began, "Indeed I have, Angelina. You may not know that I am a half-blood – my mother is a Muggle, and we spent most of my childhood living in Muggle villages. Since I was late showing signs of magic, my parents did not tell me about my heritage, figuring that if I had too little magic to become a fully-fledged wizard I would be less disappointed if I never knew what I could have become. So I grew up among the children of our Muggle neighbours, went to school with them, and never knew of the difference between us."

I closed my eyes, remembering. "Now I was also rather small for my age, and our class had a terrible bully, Michael. He was the scourge of my early school years, and I hated him with a passion only a wronged child can muster. One day after school, when he and his gang of cronies had managed to corner me, humiliate me, and left me hurt and bruised, I came home crying and howling for vengeance. My mother dressed my wounds, but she told me that hitting back with violence only caused more violence, and that I should prove that I was better than that louse by not sinking to his level – she was a calm and loving woman, but those were not the words that I needed to hear. I got up, screamed that I hated her, I hated Michael, and I hated the whole world, and ran out of the house, stumbling blindly into the woods behind the village. I heard her call after me, but I ran and hid from her. I wanted to be alone with my anger and hate. When she had gone, I sat there as night fell and the full moon slowly rose over the horizon, praying for any higher power to hear, asking them to make me strong, to make me powerful, so that I could show them all. I told them I would give anything for that."

I sighed. "That night two families lost their sons. Mine lost me to the werewolf's bite, and Michael's lost him to my new teeth and claws. My prayer had been answered, and my whole life since I have spent paying the price."

I opened my eyes again, to find Angelina staring at me, wide-eyed. "I'm sorry, Remus," she whispered.

I shook my head. "It is okay, Angelina. I feel better having talked about it." To my surprise, I realised that was the truth.

She was silent for a time, lost in thought. Then suddenly she began, "When I was a little girl, my great-grandmother often told me tales of our African homelands and our ancestors. I loved them all, but my favourites were stories about Zingsti, the _Unbidden_. She told me that Zingsti brought a man and a woman together, irresistibly. There was always a reason, though ... in one tale it was a village to be saved, in another an evil to be fought, two families to be merged," her voice quavered, "or a child to be born. She also told me that it was very rare, yet unmistakable; that to fight its compulsion was a living death. And giving in to it, then yet denying it could bring great tragedy upon the world."

She met my eyes. "When I heard her stories, I always closed my eyes and wished with all my heart that Zingsti would come upon me some day. I never understood the name. It sounded so wonderful ... Of course, when I grew older, I started to regard her tales as merely that, legends of our people."

Suddenly tears welled from her dark eyes, and she closed them in a futile effort to stop them. "But Zingsti is no tale. And everything my great-grandmother told me is true. It is unmistakable, and it is irresistible. And for the first time I know why they call it the Unbidden."

A sob escaped her lips. "Saturday, after the match, I happened to lock eyes with Professor Snape, and it came upon us ! With him, of all the people in the world ! What can I do, Remus ? There is no way out of this ... I even thought of throwing myself off the Astronomy tower, but Gran told stories about people who did commit suicide and ended up as ghosts, still as bound to Zingsti as before. I cannot escape it, but I simply cannot ... I cannot ..." dry sobs racked her body, and she buried her head in her hands.

The sight wrenched my heart. I put a gentle hand on her shoulder, unable to help more until the first storm had passed and her sobs had become less frequent. Finally, when she had calmed down, I lifted her chin to make her look at me.

"Angelina," I began, groping for words, "I will not try and soothe you with lies, saying that it probably isn't half bad ... I have no way of appreciating the pain you feel and I take your word for it. But I can and will at least offer you the knowledge that what you endure is not just a cruel twist of fate."

She looked at me, clearly surprised. I continued, "What only a few people know is that Professor Snape has a far more important role in the war against Voldemort than even those that are old enough to remember the last war assume. For you to be bonded to him thus could be the one thing that decides whether all of us live or die."

Her surprise got mixed with confusion. "But Harry ..."

I nodded, lost in thought, thinking of James and what we all had lost when he died, of the man he might have become. "Yes, there is Harry, too. And Susan Bones. But neither of them are fully trained yet. And until they are we will not know if they are strong enough or not. Severus has proven that he is." 

"Strong enough to do what ?" she asked, confusion still on her face.

I jerked back to the present, realising how much I had told her already. I hated having to do so, but I shook my head. "I am afraid, Angelina, that this secret is not mine to give. Only Professor Snape himself could do that. But believe me when I say that there is a reason for what you go through at the moment."

She looked disappointed for a moment, but then slowly nodded. 

We got up and walked back to the castle in silence, but it was a relaxed silence, a feeling of everything important already having been said.


	7. Severus

Chapter Seven : Severus

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"I feel her, I see her; the sun caught in her raven hair is blazing in me out of all control." – Hunchback of Notre Dame, Hell's Fire

I looked up from the book on counter-spells I had been reading, alarmed by a most unusual sensation. Something inside me was ... chiming, for lack of a better word. Resonating.

When I heard a knock on my door, though, I knew at once what it meant. Angelina Johnson had come to pay me a visit.

I considered simply ignoring her, but remembering Albus's damn order I grudgingly called out, "Enter, Miss Johnson !" I did not feel like playing games – in fact about the only thing I felt like tonight was murder. A thoroughly rotten night had been followed by a worse-than-average Monday, and the icing on the cake had been the secret meeting Albus had called and forced me to attend. Which, of course, meant meeting several people I would much rather avoid –or better yet, strangle– including Remus and Sirius, the latter of which had been glaring at me with even more bile than usual. But at least Albus had kept true to his missive of discretion and there had been no public discussion about my ...condition, as he called it. 

Still, the girl showed a wretched sense of timing worthy of a true Gryffindor.

She entered and crossed the room, and I felt myself reacting to her nearing presence despite myself. The anger about this –and the effort to ignore the way the light of the candle I had been reading by was dancing on her smooth, dark skin– gave my voice the appropriate bite as I said, "I am so charmed that you stopped by to visit, Miss Johnson. But I think I am safe in assuming that this is no mere social call."

She sat down and shook her head. "No. We need to talk, Professor."

I, too, shook my head. "I do not see what there is to talk about, Miss Johnson. The headmaster seems convinced that this whatever-you-call-it that has passed between us is the unstoppable hand of fate, but I do not happen to share that particular belief. So I would rather spend my time trying to find a means to break it than to chat. I would have assumed that you would be even happier than me to have that bond undone."

She sighed, and there was a sadness in her voice that grated on my already raw nerves as she said, "Zingsti, Sir. And Headmaster Dumbledore is right – there is no way back, you can no more undo Zingsti than bring back the dead and departed, or so the stories say. Believe me, I would indeed be happier if it were possible."

I briefly closed my eyes, fondly imagining giving her a week's worth of detention with Filch – sadly, I had been forbidden. Packing as much sneer into my voice as I could, I answered, "Miss Johnson, if all you came here to talk about is tell me stories and folklore, you are wasting your time, and mine. I'll believe that there is such a thing as unbreakable magic the day that Longbottom manages to brew Wolfsbane potion."

She actually seemed faintly amused at my words. "You know what my grandfather used to say, Professor ? 'White wizards and witches are such arrogant folks, Angelina. They always think that they can control magic, while we know that we can merely make eddies in a stream.' "

I hissed back, "That belief, of course, might be why I never heard of any spell, potion or any other significant discovery made by him."

Now _that_ had hit a nerve. She exploded, "While you can be so proud of yourself and your achievement of being the terror of the school for any student save those Slytherins as slimy as you !"

I drew in a sharp breath, fighting for my self-control. _How dare she ... ?_ She stared at me angrily, fire dancing in her dark eyes, and I stared back, using all the force of presence I had attained over the years. But as soon as we locked our gazes, I realised I had made a mistake.

Her eyes, pools as dark as my own, were drawing me forwards, towards her, beckoning, speaking of half-forgotten things, promising nearness and warmth and touching me deep inside where I had never, ever allowed anyone to be ... I felt my hand rise, without my will, and reach out to touch her cheek – with my last ounce of will I broke the eye-contact and jerked back.

She looked as if she was awakening from some kind of trance, shaking slightly. Quietly she said, "So you still think that there is nothing to talk about between us ?"

I fought to calm myself down. I could not throw her out, I could not threaten her, and it seemed that intimidation and sneering, while satisfying, were not very effective in shooing her. So if I wanted to have any chance to return to my book tonight, it seemed I had to resort to talking this over as quickly as possible. So I told her, "Look, Miss Johnson. I did not want this to happen and neither did you. I am not happy with the result and neither are you. You seem to give in, I will fight. It is as simple as that."

She shook her head a little, causing her beautiful black tresses to dance around her. "This is a fight neither of us can win. You can delay what is going to happen between us, but you cannot stop it. Look at what almost happened a minute ago !"

She had a point there, but I refused to acknowledge it. "Let us for a moment, Miss Johnson, assume the ridiculous concept of us sharing intimacies were possible." I hoped I had managed to keep my voice steady and jaded saying that; even the thought sent my insides tumbling and caused my trousers to tighten painfully.

Apparently not; she gave a mirthless laugh. "You are neither fooling yourself nor me, Professor. And, for the record, let me state that I'd rather bang Filch than you. I only refuse to keep my eyes as shut to reality as you do."

"Charmed," I responded dryly. "But what I was about to say was that, even if I considered 'banging' you, as you so sweetly called it, I would never do it for this reason."

Now that had obviously surprised her, and she looked at me quizzically. "What do you mean ?"

I sighed. "I neither know nor care how you chose your bedmates up to now, Miss Johnson, but I refuse to bed a woman driven only by some spell or Zingsti or whatever this is, like an animal in rut. Unless she desires me, and I her, of our own free will, I will not do such a thing. And I do not desire you. Yes, I know that my body betrays me, and that I am driven towards you. But my mind considers you an obnoxious, stubborn and wilful brat, while you no doubt think of me as an arrogant, greasy and vicious bastard. I would hardly call that a basis for desire."

That left her temporarily speechless. I stifled a sigh. Now if she only took her gawking self out of my door, I could finally continue reading.

But there was no such peace for me to be had yet, as she found her voice again, asking, "Such lofty standards. And I am supposed to assume you always held true to them, even during your time as a Death Eater ?"

Now it was _my_ turn to be speechless. Finally I managed to growl, "Has that bloody Potter been going around spreading stories about me ?" I would _kill_ him, and damn the consequences, I swore to myself.

She looked surprised. "Harry ? No. I asked our walking library, Hermione, about your role in the last war, in private after dinner. She told me that she had read up on Voldemort's history last summer and that after the war you had been on trial. She said that it was determined there that while you had been a Death Eater at first, you had repented later and started spying for Albus Dumbledore. And since it was determined that you had thus been 'acting brave and saving countless lives by risking your own', your record was cleared and you walked out a free man, back to your job here, without so much as a day ever spent in Azkaban. She added that she had had to search quite a while for this information, as it seemed to have been hushed up quite impressively. Was she right about all this ?"

I clenched my teeth – of course, if trouble didn't come from Potter himself for once, it was bound to come from either that obnoxious redhead or that insufferable bookworm who both constantly hung around him. I hissed, "Yes, it is. And yes, I held true to my standards even then. Not that I see how either of this is any concern of yours."

She sighed. "Of course it concerns me. Whether or not I like it –or you, for that matter– everything that concerns you now concerns me as well. And I suppose that, somehow, your peculiar history was the reason fate bound us so, not just cruelty."

That was an odd comment. "What do you mean by that ?" I inquired.

She looked at me incredulously. "Why, of course, that there must be some way you will be involved in the second war against Voldemort, which I am sure will break out some day soon. And in which I, like or not, will be involved as well."

I had to laugh; it sounded as bitter and tired as I felt. "War against Voldemort ? You silly little girl – you do not have the first idea about Voldemort. _Or_ war."

That brought her anger back. "I have too. Several of my family died fighting him."

"Indeed you have ?" I replied. "And no doubt the survivors filled your childhood with tall tales of the brave fights against the evil foe of all Muggles and Muggleborns."

She snapped back, "That they did – and I admire them for standing up and helping to foil his plans."

I shook my head. "His plans, Miss Johnson ? Has Voldemort told you his plans, or where else does your erudition stem from ? Or are you simply assuming, as blind as all the other fools ?"

"What is there to assume ?" she retorted angrily. "His actions were plain for all to see like the Dark Mark in the sky."

"Indeed they were, Miss Johnson," I shot back. "But then tell me : why, when he was so keen on 'wiping out the Mudbloods and Muggles', did he kill the McKinnons, or the Bones, or the Prewetts, and so many more, some of the oldest and purest families in Great Britain ? Why was he, for the most part, content to keep his machinations to the Isles, and never tried to recruit Death Eaters across the Channel, where one would assume there are even more of said Mudbloods and Muggles ? Why, when he went to kill the pureblood James Potter personally, did he go for little Harry, his halfblood infant son, and would have let Lily Potter, the Muggleborn, live, had it not been for her refusal to give Harry up ? How does that fit into your oh-so-learned theory of Voldemort's plans ? Stop talking about things you do not understand and wanting to play at a war the cause and aims of which you do not even begin to grasp !"

As soon as the words had left my mouth, I realised what a huge mistake I had made in letting myself go like this. Anger at myself as well as her filled my words as I roared, "Get the hell out of here !" For once, she obeyed and fled the room with due haste. But the damage had already been done.

So I finally had time to go back to my reading – but, of course, concentration eluded me as I brooded over my own stupidity. My traitorous body and soul, meanwhile, ached for her missing presence as if I had cut off my own arm.


	8. Hermione

Chapter Eight : Hermione

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"Data is not information, information is not knowledge, knowledge is not understanding, understanding is not wisdom." – Clifford Stoll and Gary Schubert

When Harry, Ron and I made our way up from the dungeons, I was relieved at finally reaching daylight again. While Professor Cruor was a fairly nice person as vampires went, it meant that Defence of the Dark Arts classes were now too being held in the dungeons, since she did not take well to sunlight. And Potions had been a horrible experience today. For no reason I could fathom, Professor Snape had seemed to direct all his bile against Gryffindors in general solely at me this afternoon. So coming back to the light now almost felt like a rebirth.

We finished supper quickly and made our way back to the Gryffindor common room, I to settle down with "Products of Prime Numbers – Enhancing Magical Affinities", some light background reading for Arithmancy, and the boys to play a game of wizard chess, which of course would lead to Harry losing in due time. In fact, I suspected him of only pretending to try in the first place, and otherwise only regarding the game as a way to keep Ron's often fragile ego suitably pampered.

When I saw a movement out of the corner of my eyes, I looked up from my book to see Angelina coming towards us. There was definitely something odd about our chaser these days, I reflected ... on Saturday she had seemingly forgotten about braking her broom, and ever since she had looked ill rested and sad, and she and Fred seemed to have had some sort of falling out – it was hard to tell, as the else so verbose Fred was silent on the subject. And then, yesterday, she had sprung that odd question about Snape in the war on me, for no apparent reason.

Angelina sat down in an armchair next to us, greeting us all. Then she turned to Harry and told him, "Harry, I've got a question. It is highly personal, though, and I will understand if you refuse to answer it."

Ron quipped, "Ginny will scratch your eyes out, Angie !" and he and Harry had a brief laugh, but Angelina shook her head and assured them it was not _that_ kind of question. Since the matter seemed both curious and rather private to me by now, I cast a quick sound muffling spell around us – while we were sitting fairly isolated in the common room, you could never guarantee that there were no chance eavesdroppers otherwise.

Angelina thanked me and then turned to Harry again, fixing him with an oddly intense gaze. "Harry, do you know if it is true that Voldemort would have let your mother go ?"

Harry turned chalk white – which was an answer in itself, I thought. He stammered, "How the bloody hell do you know that ?"

But Angelina just shook her head sadly. "Trust me, you would not believe me if I told you." And she would not be pressed in the matter.

__

Now that had definitely been an odd question for her to ask. Even odder that she knew about this in the first place – Harry had never even told Ron or me. But since what she had asked obviously _was_ the truth, there was a string of questions attached to it that were even odder, I realised.

I quietly addressed Harry, whose colour was only slowly returning to normal, "But Harry – your mother was Muggleborn like me, wasn't she ?" He just nodded, so I continued, "But that makes no sense at all – Voldemort was after the Muggles and Muggleborns, and then he would have let go the only one in your family that was ?"

Angelina nodded. "Yes, that was the point behind the question. However, I am sorry I shocked you like that, Harry."

He shook his head slowly. "It is okay, Angelina. It is just ... a very bad memory."

She briefly patted his arm in an affectionate manner, then, suddenly, another idea seemed to have come to her, for she continued, "Oh, and another thing, Harry – don't worry, nothing so personal this time. It is just that : would you know of anything that you and Susan Bones have in common ?"

That was a question that baffled all of us. Harry ventured, "Umm ... she's a fifth-year, too ?" Ron suggested, "She was chosen Seeker for Hufflepuff this year !" But I had the nagging feeling that I had read something about her this summer – when the feeling condensed to form the image of a particular book, I sprang up hastily to get it.

Calling out to the group, "Wait a moment, I'll fetch something !" I went to my bedroom and returned with "Children of the War", one of the history books I had been reading during the summer holidays. I leafed through it until I found the page I had been looking for, then triumphantly showed it to the others. "You and her have another thing in common, Harry – you're both orphaned. Voldemort attacked and killed her family late in the war; she only survived because her mother was a seer and had placed her in care of her own brother, Mundungus Fletcher, mere hours before their grange was attacked, because of a vision that had prompted her to do so."

This information seemed to intrigue Angelina greatly; she pondered it for a moment, then quietly asked me, "You would not happen to know if Professor Snape is orphaned as well ?"

I tried to make myself heard over the boys' outcries of indignation. "I am afraid I have no idea – if he is, though, I would guess his parents did not die in the war or I would have read about them. Why ?"

But she evaded the answer again. "Just curious, Hermione. But thanks for the answers, everyone."

Ron protested. "Come on, Angelina. There is no way you would have asked all that just _out of curiosity_. Has that crash woken your latent seer abilities, or why do you ask weird questions and know things you should not know all of a sudden ?"

Angelina shook her head. "As I said, you would not believe me even if I told you. Besides, I've made a promise to the headmaster. But thanks for your time and have a nice evening !" And with that, she got up and vanished through the door to the dorms.

Ron shook his head. "Remember when I told you that everyone who spent too much time with Fred or George would go bonkers ? Here's proof that I was right, and I bet you Alicia will be the next one to snap."

But I had too much to mull over to reply to that stupid remark. Angelina's questions certainly had raised a couple of interesting questions and ideas in my mind. The most important, of course, being that there had to be some reason behind Voldemort's behaviour in Godric's Hollow – and the way Angelina had asked it, it had to be linked to something that Harry, Susan Bones _and_ _Snape_ had in common. The boys had probably not noticed this, having been busy to play off their usual routine at the mention of Snape's name, but Angelina was searching for a connection between the three of them. Which also would explain why she had asked me yesterday what he had done during the last war. 

Why Angelina, normally more keen on Quidditch than on History of Magic, would start to be interested in such matters all of a sudden was beyond me, or what it had to do with the headmaster – but she had certainly sparked _my_ interest. Checking my watch, I thought that if I'd make it quick, I could make a trip to the library to get myself some helpful books before curfew, and so I got up to leave the boys to the chess game they had resumed by now.


	9. Lucius

Chapter Nine : Lucius

__

"You can go a long way with a smile. You can go a lot farther with a smile and a gun." - Al Capone

I made my way uphill towards Hogwarts Castle, cool and in control on the outside, but actually fuming about that waste of my time.

If the Dark Lord had played his cards right, we could now be the hidden rulers of Britain, as we once were. But no, Lord Voldemort insisted on playing it safe this time, although none of us would have dared tell him that to his face. Almost a year had passed since his return, and so very little had happened apart from 'information gathering'. Test some loyalties here, plant some conned or Imperio'ed spy there, gather secrets and lie low. Only a few Muggle killings to keep the grunts happy, but even those were planned so that they looked like an accident to the Muggle police; and there were no Dark Marks in the sky. He had not even called the Dementors to his side as of yet, although they were ready to come. But no, he insisted on giving the wizarding populace the impression that all was safe and that Dumbledore ranting about his return was merely a barmy old man.

Well, yes, I had to admit that there was _some_ wisdom in that. But still, you could take things too far. And if Voldemort had a higher plan behind all of this, he had not seen it fit to share, a thought that did nothing to soothe my irritation.

So here I was, wasting a precious afternoon, because the Dark Lord had insisted on my using the pretext of an angry letter of McGonagall's about my son's behaviour in her classes to make a personal appearance at Hogwarts, outwardly to talk to her in person, but in reality to have a look at the situation there and to get a personal report from our spy, who lately had reported having increasing troubles sending owls unseen. 

I snorted, not bothering to hide my disdain. 'Our spy at Hogwarts' – there hadn't been one single bit of useful information coming from the castle so far. Another reason I was sent to get a personal report, I guessed – a reminder of whom to be loyal to. 

I entered the castle and made my way through the empty hallways –it seemed the afternoon classes were still in progress– towards Dumbledore's office, announcing my presence and the reason for my visit. After an extremely brief and extremely formal conversation –Dumbledore, of course, knew precisely where my loyalties lay, and knew just as precisely that he was powerless to do anything about it– I made my way to McGonagall's office, waiting for her to finish her class.

After yet another rather brief and even more frosty conversation about Draco's behaviour –would that brat _ever_ learn the value of putting up a respectful front ?– I made my way back to the entrance – at least until I was out of sight and could slip into one of the secret passageways through the castle that Lord Voldemort had instructed me about. 

I arrived at our spy's office slightly later, unseen, and didn't bother knocking before entering. The effect was as intended – she stared up at me, eyes wide in shock, and merely managed to mutter, "Mister Malfoy, what an honour ..."

I closed the door, leaning against the frame coolly, looking down at her with a mixture of disdain and ... well, more disdain. "I wish I could say the same. But since your reports have become less and less frequent and also, impossible as that seems though, less and less informative, our Dark Lord has in his clemency decided to give you the benefit of doubt and sent me here to inquire about the cause."

She prostrated herself on the floor in front of me, a pitiful sight, if not without a certain amusement value. "Tell the Dark Lord that I am his ever loyal servant ! Tell him that I do what I can, but that Dumbledore is becoming more and more distrustful ... he seems to suspect that someone is sneaking information, he just cannot pin it down on me, for I am careful. Tell him also that Dumbledore is up to something; two days ago there was another secret conference, I am sure of it ! Remus Lupin even came to the castle openly, so they are getting bolder ..."

I spat down on the figure below me in contempt. "You 'are sure' of a conference being held ? And what was it that was spoken there ? We need information, not vague rumours and observations any idiot could make. Consider that, before you send your next report."

I left quickly before she could start another string of protests. Bloody useless woman.

On an impulse, I did not leave yet, but decided to pay a visit to Severus Snape. Now, _he_ had been some spy – of course, after the war it had turned out that he had, in fact, been a double agent, but still ... you had to admire his skill at the game, even if he had used it for the wrong side.

Severus's leaving the ranks of the Death Eaters had been a big personal disappointment for me, and now, when the Inner Circle had begun to meet regularly again, I had realised how much I was missing the younger man's company at those meetings. The only one in that heap of louts, bullies and peasants that had showed some sense of style, an appreciation for finesse instead of mindless brutality. 

I had never understood just why he had left our fold, and he had always refused to elaborate on it. Ah well, it was probably his mother's blood showing – she had been a second cousin of mine, but she had well earned her reputation as the black sheep of the family even before she stooped so low as to marry a Muggle and give birth to a halfblood son. 

I knocked on his office door and entered, to find him stooped over some huge, ancient tome. He looked up in surprise and acknowledged my presence with, "Lucius, I did not know that you were coming to Hogwarts ! Make yourself comfortable, I will make some tea !" Ever the perfectionist in such matters, Severus refused to let anyone but himself brew his tea – but I did not mind; in fact, he was excellent at it and put any house elf to shame.

A couple of minutes later, we were sitting in his living room, sharing tea and polite chatter over Draco's progress in Potions, which Severus assured me was excellent. Well, at least there was one thing the brat could do well apart from making a nuisance of himself and drawing way too much attention of the wrong kind. 

I studied Severus' face as he was talking – he seemed ill-rested and somehow drained, but maybe that was just a side effect of having to try and stuff some knowledge into Mudblood brains all day long. Another thing I had never understood about him was just why he had remained at Hogwarts after the war, when it was so plain that he abhorred teaching and, with all the money his aristocratic Muggle father had left him, he certainly had no need to uphold a job. But, just as with his reasons for turning his back on Voldemort, he always clammed up when I brought the subject up.

Severus stopped talking about Draco, sipped his tea, and then said, "So, how are you faring these days ? I suppose you must be pretty busy."

I had to hide a smile at that careful thrust. "Indeed I am," I nodded, "but not half as busy as I would like. I suppose you have a pretty hectic life at the moment as well, you certainly look the part."

That brought an odd flicker to pass over this face for the merest of moments, before he caught himself again. "Indeed I am ... it seems impossible, but the students are getting dumber and dumber each year. I have no idea how that lot is supposed to pass any O.W.L.s at all, let alone in Potions – I guess this year the only ones to score a Potions O.W.L. will be your son, maybe Nott's daughter and _of_ _course_ that Mudblood brat in Gryffindor." He sighed. "Chances are, she will keep Potions in her N.E.W.T. roster to torment me two more years, no matter how hard I fight to discourage her."

I shook my head. "Draco told me about her. Too bad the basilisk didn't do his job on her properly."

Severus sighed. "Although you know what I think about that Basilisk idea of yours, in that particular case I am almost tempted to agree."

I fought down a smile – Severus conceding a point was a rare case. I helped myself to another cup, and we sipped our tea in silence for a while.

I briefly amused myself by imagining the looks on both Dumbledore's and Voldemort's faces, could they see us now. Dumbledore probably rather anxious, Voldemort furious at me for not using the opportunity to try and kill a man that was rather high up on his personal 'Wanted' list. But neither of us felt threatened by the presence of the other – there had always been an unspoken understanding between us, a sense of being like minds and an appreciation of our rapport. It might yet happen that we would have to fight each other, as much as both of us would probably regret it – but then it would be on the battlefield, in the open, and not a subtle poison in a cup of tea or a hidden flick of the wand when the other was preoccupied.

What the alumni of other houses would never grasp was that while a Slytherin would never bother contemplating if a means of offing an enemy was 'ethical', the few friendships within our house were sacrosanct. Those who attributed a Slytherin personality to Wormtail, or Black for that matter, had no idea about us whatsoever.

The Gryffindors were the ones all bark and no bite about their precious honour.

Still, I felt like making a subtle thrust on my own. "And apart from the students, how are you doing here ? Is Dumbledore still the paranoid old fool ?"  


Severus put down his cup and refilled it. "Oh, he has all sort of weird ideas these days, you know him. But for the most part I refuse to let them affect me."

Ah yes – there had been some disagreement between them. I wondered what it was about – surely Severus, of all people, believed Dumbledore when he insisted that Voldemort had returned ... he had proof on his own arm, after all. I wondered if the old man had put him to some task to oppose us – it would explain why Severus was looking so ill-rested.

But a glance at the clock over his mantelpiece told me I had better leave if I intended to be home at supper – the headmaster had invited me to stay, with a smile that he did not reach his eyes, but I had politely declined, having no need of Hogwarts's icy hospitality. So I drained my cup, and putting it down thanked Severus for his hospitality, then got up and prepared to leave.

He walked me to the door of his office, and we shook hands. "I suppose I cannot persuade you to come visit us some time ?" I told him. He understood the question well, but shook his head. "You know I cannot, Lucius. There is too much I have to do here."

I nodded, not having expected any other answer, and made my way up to the surface by means of another passage.


	10. Angelina

Chapter Ten : Angelina

__

"It requires more courage to suffer than to die." – Napoleon Bonaparte

After supper, I made my way down to the dungeons carefully, using only deserted corridors and hidden passages, and mentally thanking Fred for showing me the latter – then quickly dropping the thought again; thinking about Fred only brought more hurt. And I was probably in for an evening full of hurt anyway.

Part of me was still convinced I was mad for even venturing down there. Maybe I really should just let _him_ continue in his hubris, thinking he could alter the pure essence of magic. Hey, he might even be successful, and I would be free again.

Unfortunately, I was not so delusional as to really believe that. And so I had to be the one with common sense, it seemed. Bringing him to do something I'd really, _really_ rather avoid.

__

Okay, honesty check there, Angelina. I _did_ think of Snape as an 'arrogant, greasy and vicious bastard', as he had so aptly put it. Plus he was ugly as sin. Maybe not quite as ugly as Filch, but a close second. But still ... that one moment, when we had locked eyes, I had seen warmth in his eyes, and a tenderness in the way his hand had reached out for me that I would have attributed to just about anyone but him. And also, loathe as I was to admit it, he had quite impressed me with his little speech about desire. Hurt me, yes, which was why I had impulsively lashed out at him with that rather unfair remark about his Death Eater days, but also impressed me. 

Were some fairy godmother to materialise in front of me and grant me a wish, I'd still thank her on my knees if she undid the bond between us. But still, for the first time I felt something other than total revulsion when thinking about Professor Snape. Okay, that was not much. But given my present situation, I clung to any straw I had.

I came to the door to his office, feeling him in there, and indeed before I could knock, I heard his voice, "Come in, Miss Johnson." So I entered to find him –what else– sitting and reading a huge, ancient tome about counter curses. His gaze rested on me briefly, then he sighed. "Salazar Slytherin must have been three sheets to the wind when he decided to found a school together with someone like Godric Gryffindor. Just what does it take to make one of you understand a simple 'Leave it be' ?" His voice sounded more tired than cynical.

I stifled a smile and, sitting down in front of him, replied, "Better arguments for starters."

His eyebrows rose. "Elaborate upon 'better arguments'."

"Well, it has been four days since the Zingsti came upon us," I answered. He tensed at my words, but remained silent, and so I continued, "And I, for one, have reached a decision. The truth may be unpleasant, but I will not close my eyes to it again. So tell me this, please, honestly : in these four days, has anything you –or the headmaster– did made even the slightest difference to the bond between us ? So much as visibly influenced it ? If the answer is yes, I will admit that I was wrong and that the beliefs of my people are just myths, and will leave a much happier woman."

He clenched his teeth and remained silent for a long time. Finally, he shook his head.

I nodded – that was what I had been expecting. "Then, I am afraid, you fail to convince me that you _will_ find some way to break the bond. I think that if you are honest to yourself, you must admit you don't even believe in it yourself anymore, do you ?"

Again, no answer; not that I had expected any. His scowl was answer enough. 

We sat a while in silence, but I waited him out this time. Finally, he pressed out between clenched teeth, "So what are we going to do now ?" 

__

Now comes the hard part. I summoned all that was left of my courage –_show him you're a Gryffindor lioness, girl_– but still my voice came out in little more than a whisper as I said, "You ... told me about desire two days ago. And you were right, even though I could not admit that then. So we ... should maybe get to know each other a little better – we might find something we like in each other, and it's easier like that ..." I lowered my eyes, feeling too self-aware suddenly.

I heard a harsh snort from him. "That might require a miracle, on both sides, Miss Johnson. But seeing as I cannot honestly claim to know of any alternative, I suggest we go forward with your plan, for now."

I took a deep breath, still staring at the tips of my trainers. "Okay. But the first thing I would ask of you is to go easy on insults, please. They certainly don't make it easier for me to find you likeable."

He was silent for a moment, but then answered, his voice barely above a hiss, "I will try."

I just nodded, not trusting my own voice at the moment.

Silence sat between us again, broken suddenly by the rustling of clothing, then by him saying, "If we are to talk, we might as well go somewhere more comfortable. Follow me, Miss Johnson."

I looked up in surprise; then, deciding that I'd rather not risk ruining the first trace of concession on his part, just followed him mutely to the back of his office, which curiously enough seemed to be basked in the last orange rays of the setting sun ... _down here in the dungeons ?_ But it _was_ faint sunlight alright ... it was streaming through two glass plate windows flanking a door, which Snape opened and stepped through.

I followed quickly, curious as to where we were headed, only to find myself in a little ... garden of sorts, on a gravel-strewn path flanked by grass and two silvery birches. Orange light was coming from what seemed like the evening sky above me –but on a second look was probably an enchanted ceiling like the one in the great hall– and flooding the whole garden and the rooms beyond it through windows all around. Snape, who had continued down the path, had reached what seemed like a little plaza with a wooden table and a couple of chairs, and lit a thick candle standing on the table. The whole setting had such a serene, calm and peaceful air that I could do nothing but stare for a moment. A retreat like that was about the last thing I had expected in Snape's private domain.

He turned towards me, and with a touch of impatience in his voice said, "Close the door, Miss Johnson. And stop gawking ... Arabella Figg was Potions mistress here before me, and this was her design." With a start, I did as I was told, then went to him and sat down in a chair opposite the one he had chosen, but I still found it hard not to stare at the surroundings.

"Very well, Miss Johnson," Snape's voice sounded unusual in here, richer somehow, rolling, "tell me about yourself, then."

I swallowed a sigh – I should have expected him to leave it to me to begin. _I'm a lioness, he's a snake. You can do it, Angelina._ Haltingly, I began, "Well, my full name is Angelina Yorosi Johnson. I am the eldest child of my parents, my two brothers –twins– will turn five this summer. My family is huge, loving, mostly crazy and spread over four continents, and most of them are wizards and witches. I, myself, am not the best of casters, but I have an affinity for Medimagic, and some day I want to become a healer. But for now, I am happy playing Quidditch, and Alicia, Katie and I have accepted a contract as a reserve chaser team for the Holyhead Harpies, starting this autumn. I love animals, and I have a meerkat familiar named Gbo. I ... I used to date Fred Weasley for more than a year, but that ... has come to an end now. And I am proud to be a Gryffindor."

Summed up like that, my life sounded pathetic even to myself.

Snape had listened to me without comment, although a slightly pained expression had settled on his features. When he saw that I was finished, he raised his eyebrows, saying, "I fail to understand how basic biographical details will make any difference, but if you insist ... I am Severus William Snape. My mother, a pureblood witch, married a Muggle lord, much to the scandal of her family. I never knew her, as she died giving birth to me. So I grew up in the Muggle household of Lord Snape, who was a kindly father to me throughout his life, together with his two sons from his previous marriage. However, my mother had enspelled her private room in the manor to be Muggle-proof, so it lay undisturbed, and as soon as I had been taught how to read and write, I discovered my magical heritage in the books she had left there – and it became the focus of my life. My magical talents lie in the arts of Potions making, as you no doubt were able to guess, as well as Evocation and, ironic as that may sound right now, counter-magic. And, as you already know as well, soon after I left school I joined Voldemort's forces and became one of his inner circle, the Death Eaters. For reasons which I do not wish to discuss I came to regret this decision and went to Dumbledore, who helped me keep up a double identity during the first war against Voldemort. Ever since I have been trying to get some sense into the dunderheads populating my classes, with little success so far."

"For reasons which you do not wish to discuss ?" Now it was my turn to raise my brows.

"Indeed," he responded. "This is of no concern to you. We are not playing Truth Or Dare here, Miss Johnson."

"Well, we better had," I replied hotly. "Secrecy is not going to get us anywhere."

Snape closed his eyes, looking even wearier in the dying light of the day and the flickering candlelight. "Miss Johnson, as I told you, you are asking about things you neither understand nor should want to. But since you seem to be unable to stem your curiosity, I suggest a deal : question for question, truth for truth – except for anything pertaining to Voldemort or my Death Eater time. There is too much danger involved here, the amount of which you do not even begin to grasp."

I sighed. "I fail to see how I could 'begin to understand' it if you refuse to tell me anything. But your deal is accepted. Ask your question."

His dark eyes, glittering in the light of the candle, mustered me for a moment, then he asked, "What prompted you to date Fred Weasley ?"

__

Ouch – trust Snape to start with a low thrust like that. I glared at him, but forced myself to answer nevertheless. "If you are expecting some romantic story, you are wrong. One thing just led to another last year at the Yule ball, and we both liked the result. We had great fun together, and I do not mean that just in a sexual way. Neither of us had any pretensions of love, which is all the more ironic because I now know we indeed were in love with each other. But that's past the point anymore. We ... tried, but the connection is gone."

Snape closed his eyes for a moment. "I am sorry to hear that. Ask your question." Amazingly, that even sounded sincere. But maybe I just misinterpreted the tiredness in his voice.

__

Okay – since he did not hold back, no reason for me to. "Have you ever been in love ?"

His facial features hardened for a moment. Then he visibly forced himself to relax, and answered, "Payback, I assume. Well, I fell in love only once, and I am not sure if the feeling was truly reciprocal. But I will never know anyway, as Fiona was a reckless woman, and she thought that a pregnant Auror would be an easy target. Alas, she was wrong."

"Oh," was all I managed to say. Then, getting a grip on myself, I added, "I am really sorry. Ask your question."

He nodded, his face still showing some tense lines around his eyes. "Is there any reason beside your belief in the power and importance of Zingsti, and the undeniable way it plays havoc with our bodies and minds, that you insisted on this rigmarole ?"

I just had to smile. That was a pretty complicated way of saying, 'Do you like me at all ?' I answered, "Yes, there is. The way you insisted on not just 'mating like beasts in rut', to paraphrase it. That impressed the hell out of me. I'm not even sure why, but it did."

"Interesting answer," he remarked, "considering that you seemed rather angered at first. Well, ask your question."

Somehow, I doubted I wanted to hear the answer to the question if there was anything about me he liked. So I asked instead, "What is the thing you dread most about Zingsti ?"

Snape inhaled sharply, and remained silent for so long I was beginning to wonder if he'd refuse to answer. But finally he said, "Since I _do_ owe you another answer : the closeness. Not just the normal way that lovers reach out to each other when they join, although I would not feel comfortable with that either, since we hardly know, or like, each other. No, what I am talking about is the way we react to each other, how we open up if we so much as lock eyes. I really dread what will happen if we so much as touch, let alone lie together. I have always been a most ... private person."

I nodded. "I can empathise with that; not so much for any great need of privacy, but –sorry– for letting _you_ so close to me. You have been working hard on making me fear and loathe you for five years."

His lips curled up in what in another person could perhaps be called a smile. "I can imagine that, Miss Johnson. If I were you, I would probably run like hell. The fact that you came down here, again, surely shows that the Sorting Hat placed you correctly."

__

Whoa – that was as close to a compliment as I was likely to receive from him. Emboldened, or maybe just too tired for fear, I put my right hand on the table, outstretched, palm up. "You know, there is only one way to stop our fears to have power over ourselves, or so my great-grandfather said."

Snape tensed, and mustered my hand through hooded eyes for a moment, saying, "So we have progressed from Truth to Dare, haven't we ? I must be more tired than I realise to even consider this ..." and stretched out his left hand, his fingertips brushing mine.

The feeling of his skin on mine was incredibly intense. It was like seven years ago, when I had stood before a pile of wands at Ollivander's, grabbed the mahogany one, and suddenly every fibre in me had sighed contentedly, "That one's mine". His skin was warm, dry and somehow seemed to _fit_ mine, to belong. Without any conscious effort of mine, I reached out, tracing the lines of his hands, wanting to touch more, to feel his strong, sleek hand, to _reach_ ... His hand reached out as well, our fingers entwined, joined, and a warm, pleasant feeling rose up from my fingertips and began to spread through my whole body. And slowly, the frantic pulse I could feel through his skin began to slow down, to match mine, till finally I felt our hearts beat at the same time, as one.

I looked up from our entwined hands in wonder, and my eyes met his. But the opening was slower this time, not so much a falling as a gentle pull, the call of a soul to its mate, promising that neither would ever need to feel alone again.

For the span of a dozen joined heartbeats we just sat there, lost in the moment. 

Then Snape suddenly jerked back his hand as if he had been burnt. Turning away from me, he pressed forth through clenched teeth, his voice harsh, "Go. Go now. This has been a mistake."

I drew back, repelled by his sudden disruption of our connection and his words as if I had been pushed away with a hot poker. Trembling, I felt my self-control wavering and threatening to break down any second – so I did as he said, getting up hastily and fleeing his rooms without looking back.

I dashed along the deserted dungeon corridors, not really looking where I went, and more by instinct stumbled through a secret door leading to a small unused room where Fred and I had made out occasionally. I threw myself on the old couch facedown, just sobbing for a while until the shock had left my system and sanity was slowly returning.

When the panic had left and my mind had finally resurfaced, I sat up, trying to think this over as calmly as I could – which was a difficult process as anger about his harsh rejection and relief about not having gone further were warring inside me. The feeling of linking with him had been among the most wonderful and intense experiences I had ever had – while it had lasted. Now, however, my mind caught up with my instincts and reminded me of _whom_ I had shared this with, and the thought made me feel nauseous.

Yes, I decided, on balance I was rather glad that Snape had stopped this while he still could – I had little doubt that we wouldn't have ended up on top of each other had we continued, and _that_ was something I now found I definitely was not ready for ... I hoped I ever would be, in fact.

Still, anger at his rejection continued to burn inside me. I had been the sensible part of this long enough, I decided. Now it was _his_ turn, and bugger my understanding the nature of Zingsti better – he should have a pretty clear idea by now, as well. I might have the Gryffindor courage to go down there and face him, but I also had Gryffindor _pride_. 

As I slowly walked up to Leo Tower by means of another hidden passage, I swore to myself that no matter how sick the pull of Zingsti would drive me, I would _not_ seek him out again unless he came to me first.


	11. Hermione

Chapter Eleven : Hermione

_"Whatever women do they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult."_ – _Charlotte Whitton_

I fidgeted inwardly, waiting for the Ancient Runes lesson to be finally over. Not that I did not appreciate Professor Ogham's teaching – I found runes highly fascinating, in fact. But her lessons were the only subject that Susan Bones and I had in common; and since what I intended to ask her was rather personal, I had thought it wise to wait until Friday, when I could talk to her after the lesson.

Finally the lesson was over and we were free to head towards the Great Hall for lunch. I quickly packed my bag and headed Susan off, greeting her. She seemed glad for some company – she was the only Hufflepuff and I the only Gryffindor among mostly Ravenclaws in Ancient Runes – and we went down the stairs together, chatting.

After a couple of minutes of polite conversation I finally felt ready to breach the subject, and so I began, keeping my voice hesitant, "Susan, I happened to read 'Children of the War' recently, and I ...I chanced upon your family's story. I just wanted to tell you ... I am sorry. I know how terribly Harry misses his parents."

She had tensed when I mentioned the book, and when I said Harry's name a cloud passed over her face – bad strategy, it seemed. But nevertheless, she answered, "Thank you, Hermione. To be frank, I cannot remember anything about my parents, and I have been luckier than Harry insofar as, while You-Know-Who wiped out almost all my relatives, at least my uncle Mundungus is still alive; and so I was not forced to spend my youth among Muggles, as Harry was, and my uncle has been a wonderful father to me. But I thank you for your condolences regardless. After all," she took a deep breath, "sometimes I get crazy when everyone pities _dear_, _poor_ Harry for being an orphan like he was the only person in the world who lost his relatives in the war – there is Neville, and me, and far too many others as well." The words having left her mouth, she suddenly looked sheepish. "I guess I shouldn't have said that."

I shook my head, trying to comfort her. "It is okay, Susan. Whether or not Harry wants to –and he usually doesn't– he tends to be the centre of everyone's attention. I, as his friend, have seen that countless times. And everyone who is close to him cannot help but feel jealous from time to time."

She nodded. "I can imagine that. And I do realise that he has had a bad life. But he is not the only one. And I know that he is James Potter's son, and that the Potters were an ancient and respected family, but so was my father's clan ... the Bones were descendants of Helga Hufflepuff herself, for crying out loud ! But then, nobody ever gives a Hufflepuff any credits anyway, so maybe that is not even something I should go around feeling proud of." There was a bitterness in her voice not really suiting her normally cheerful face, framed by strawberry red locks bouncing as we descended another stairway. 

Now I felt really bad; the last thing I had intended was to bring her down like that. So I tentatively said, "Hufflepuff is a very respected house in its own way. Everybody knows you can rely on a Hufflepuff. And you never shirk your duties, which is more than can be said of most Gryffindors." I tried a weak smile.

She sighed. "Yes, and look where it has brought Cedric, our champion." Then she visibly got herself together. "I am sorry, Hermione. You only meant well, and here I go and gripe at you."

Now _that_ made me feel even worse, as I had _not_ only inquired after her family to offer her my condolences. So I put a lot of emphasis into saying, "No, it is I who am sorry, Susan. I did not intend to cause you pain."

We had reached the Great Hall in the meantime, so she took my hand, squeezed it briefly and affectionately, saying, "It's okay – see you, Hermione !" then went towards the Hufflepuff table, leaving me to join Ron and Harry, who were already waiting for me at our own table. 

I helped myself to some lunch, absentmindedly listening to Ron and Harry's tales of their latest Divination lesson – after all, there was nothing new in what they told; Divination lessons seemed to be just as absurd as I remembered them. There was something important, I just _knew_ it, sitting just beyond my mind's reach, and the feeling was driving me crazy. Something that Susan had said had half triggered another memory, but it refused to come forth.

Luckily, the next lesson was History of Magic, which I just about knew by heart anyway, so I had time to mull the matter over as Professor Binns droned on about the Ministry of Magic's origins. And so I went through the conversation again and again in my head, trying to latch on the important part.

When Binns went on about the Warlocks' Convention, it suddenly hit me like a flash of lightning. 

__

... the Potters were an ancient and respected family, but so was my father's clan ... the Bones were descendants of Helga Hufflepuff herself ...

Now I suddenly knew what had bugged me all the time – the name of the village where the Potters had lived, where Voldemort had met Harry and been defeated for the first time ...

__

Godric's Hollow.

Godric as in Godric _Gryffindor_. How could I never before have realised that ? I could have slapped myself on the forehead, had that not probably provoked a question from Professor Binns.

All the time, three years ago, people had been suspecting Harry of being Salazar Slytherin's heir – even Ron, he and I had not been sure about it. But it seemed more likely that he was the descendant of _a different_ founder.

I began to inwardly count the minutes until I could visit the library – I needed to thoroughly research that, of course, before I went to Harry with that theory of mine. Luckily, even though there were no proper genealogy books in the library that I knew of, there were biographies of famous wizards and witches, old yearbooks and such, as well as history books alluding to wizarding lineages, but still it was going to be hard work to follow a family history spanning a millennium. I couldn't wait to get started.

Finally, Friday's lessons were over, and I made a beeline for the library, which the boys accepted with nothing but a resigned shrug. I went to the history section, helped myself to an armload of promising-looking books like an ancient-looking one called 'Living Legacy of the Founders' or the 'Wizard's Who's Who', carried them to my favourite spot, the table next to the window overlooking the lake, and started reading.

Madame Pince strolled by as I was engrossed in 'Famous Gryffindors of the Last Century', and casting a look at the pile of books in front of me, asked me, "Miss Granger, aren't you Muggle-born ?"

I looked up, surprised at the question. "Yes, I am, but why do you ask ?"

She smiled a little. "Because you are the first of them who has ever shown interest in wizarding lineages as long as I have been librarian here. Usually it is only the purebloods, naturally the Slytherins mostly, but some Ravenclaws as well, who take such an onerous task upon themselves, hoping maybe that they find some unknown ancestor of high renown that will enhance their standing within their house. Oh yes, and the few halfbloods of Slytherin, they all came here, desperate for some renown. I still remember Tom Riddle, such a charming boy, the only one of the halfbloods ever to become Prefect in Slytherin, and then he even went on to become Head Boy – he could spend whole afternoons bent over books like the ones you have chosen, and he did not only choose those containing Slytherin genealogies, no, he went through all of them, every year, even when he was Head Boy already ... such a desperate young man, so eager to find his heritage – he grew up among Muggles, you see, and he had such a rough time in House Slytherin, I have no idea why the Hat did that to him. The halfbloods have it hardest of all there, you know, and they are desperate for help, even from the dead, so they all came up here to me sooner or later ... well, no, come to think of it – Severus never did. He wore the name of his Muggle father like a badge of honour, which it is, after all, but not in _that_ house, and he never went and looked up his mother's lineage, which is odd, come to think of it ... Now when I remember young Miss Delleray, she was here for hours and hours, reading and searching, or Raymond's halfblood daughter, Marelie ..."

She droned on, but I found it impossible to concentrate upon her words any longer ... I had almost frozen in shock when she had told me about the 'charming boy Tom Riddle'. 

So Lord Voldemort had obviously taken a high interest in wizarding genealogy in his youth. Which, of course, made some sense since, according to what Harry had told me Dumbledore had said, he was the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin. But it was safe to assume that he had known that at least in his fifth year, when he had set the basilisk free, and Madame Pince had said that he had come here even as Head Boy. So there had to be more behind this interest than wanting to know about his own ancestry.

But what ?

An idea began to form in my mind slowly. Could it possibly be that Voldemort had tried to kill Harry _not because of his mother's Muggle heritage but because of his father's Gryffindor heritage ?_

Of course, that still left a huge 'Why ?' to be answered. But it was the start of a theory. A theory that would explain why he had been more keen on Harry's death than his mother's. And considering what Susan had told me about her family and Helga Hufflepuff, it also fit the pattern that Angelina was so obviously searching for, only I could not place Professor Snape into it at all – _yet_. 

Madame Pince finally was finished with her tale and, with a last friendly nod, wandered on, and I got myself a basic book about the victims in the last war for cross-reference, then started reading with renewed vigour.


	12. Fred

Chapter Twelve : Fred

__

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art. It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival."– C.S. Lewis

I cast a look up at the dark storm clouds swirling in the sky above the Quidditch pitch. When, a couple of weeks ago, our team had decided to keep practising every Saturday morning, even though there were no more matches to be played this year, both for the girls' benefit –they were going pro this autumn– and for the sheer fun of it, George had joked about no storm being able to pull our team apart. 

It seemed, however, that both the external and internal storm were doing great at trying today.

The weather, having been pleasant the whole week, had suddenly taken a turn for the worse yesterday evening. Gusts of winds were threatening to push us off our brooms –in fact, they almost succeeded twice in Angelina's case– and while it had not begun to rain yet, it could only be a matter of minutes.

But even that kind of weather could not entirely be blamed on the awful way we were playing. The wonderful harmony that had spirited our team to its greatest triumph a week ago had vanished, replaced by awkwardness ... and of course I knew that Angie and I were the cause.

George had been pestering me all week long what had gone wrong between the two of us – and, naturally, had not believed me when I told him I had no clear idea myself. But I truly did not know ... not that I had not put up the most outlandish theories, and discarded them again. The way Angelina had looked ill-rested and weary all week, I had even gone so far as to ponder if I had unintentionally made her pregnant – but it was well known that there was a potent anti-pregnancy ward covering the castle and the whole grounds, as old as the castle and having never failed in the history of Hogwarts; which proved that the Four Founders had known as much about teenagers as about magic, but also meant that my theory was bunk. 

So the whole class had dragged themselves through the week: Angelina being weary and withdrawn, me clueless and sad, Fred worried, Lee oddly pensive, Katie and Alicia anxious.

And since we fielded five out of the seven Quidditch players of the Gryffindor house team, it was no wonder that even the Hufflepuffs could have beaten us today. 

Blindfolded. On Cleansweep Twos.

Finally, when the first drops started to fall, Ron, our new keeper and team captain, saw that there was little sense in continuing and called it quits. My little brother had enough sense, though, not to start any after-training analysis, so we simply showered and changed back into our school robes in silence. When we left the locker rooms, our faithful –and only– spectators, Lee, Ginny and Hermione, met up with us, and the youngsters bade us goodbye, walking back towards the castle under the canopy of a rain-repellent charm, probably cast by Hermione. 

As the six of us stood there watching them leave, I noticed Lee carrying a rather large basket, and asked him about it. He smiled a little sheepishly, and said, "I thought that maybe you would all feel like having a little picnic after training, so I met with the house elves before you started, but it seems the weather has decided otherwise – it seemed like a good idea at the time, though."

I had to smile; that was so typically Lee. He would never admit that he was worried about his friends, so he put his dad's motto, "Good food and good fun will make everyone feel good," to use. But before I could thank him for the idea, George chimed in, "But we could still do it, Lee ... that's too good an idea to waste. Fred, remember that cave down by the lake which we discovered last year ? Seems like a good spot for a rainy-weather picnic to me."

Katie groaned, "Sure ... I always wanted to sit on a wet, cold rock, watching the rain outside. Sounds like my idea of fun all right." I quickly seconded that, but once George had put an idea to his head, it was impossible to dissuade him anymore – and so, a couple of minutes later, the six of us were sitting on a huge, surprisingly comfy blanket taken out of Lee's basket, sheltered from the rain by the stony walls of the cave, and dried by a couple of quick spells by Alicia, our charms expert, who also put up a small fire further inside the cave to keep it warm and dry. Lee unshrunk and spread the food and dishes in the middle of the blanket, and we all started to tuck in.

When I had eaten my fill and sat back, resting my back against a boulder for support, I admitted I had to hand it to Lee ... I _really_ felt better. His selection had been excellent, and I felt strangely peaceful as I sat there, watching the others finishing lunch and listening to the sound of the rain outside the cave. One by one, my friends and classmates put down their plates and leant back like I had, and soon we were all lazing on the blanket, too full to do anything more productive, and not really wanting to either.

Angelina, lying flat on her back and watching the fire dance behind her, was the first to break the silence that had descended on us, saying, "Thank you, Lee ... that was a really sweet idea."

Lee, reclining next to Katie, nodded. "It is nothing, really, Angelina. Anything to make you feel better."

That made her turn her head towards him slowly, and she searched his face, her beautiful features apprehensive. Lee, for his part, just looked back at her levelly. I was half torn between demanding to know what this was about and not wanting to interrupt whatever the heck was going on, but before I could decide, she turned away again, turning her back on him, on all of us, in fact. Lee quietly asked, "So it is true, isn't it ?"

Her simple, whispered, "Yes," was barely audible over the rain.

Lee, however, let off his feelings with a loud, heartfelt, "Bugger !" that made Katie next to him jump. Angelina, however, gave a short, mirthless laugh in answer, but still would not turn back towards us.

My apprehension was slowly giving way to irritation ... what did Lee know that I did not, and how ? Was it possible that the two of them ...? I felt a sudden flash of anger clench my insides.

But before I could voice anything to that effect, Katie piped up, "What on earth was that about, Lee ? _What_ is true, and how do you know it, and would you please mind sharing ?" Obviously her train of thought had followed pretty much the same track as mine.

Lee shook his head, his curls flying. "Katie, darling, just what do you think of me ? _Or_ Angelina ?" He sounded slightly peeved.

Katie subsided, muttering, "Well ... but still, you own us an explanation."

Lee sighed, "Love, have a look at me. Do you happen to notice anything that Angelina and I have in common ?"

It was a credit to wizarding society, I thought, that it actually took us several seconds of pondering that question till Alicia came up with the answer, "Umm ... you're both black ?"

Lee smiled weakly. "Indeed ... five points to Gryffindor, Miss Spinnet. That we are, and that is why I recognised what is wrong with her – the Mistress kissed her, and She only does that to her own people. Be glad, in fact. You can see that it's no great fun, can't you ?"

__

The Mistress kissed her ? What was _that_ supposed to mean ? I looked around and found that neither George, nor Alicia or Katie apparently had got it either, judging by the confused looks on their faces. Did Lee try to tell us that Angelina had gone lesbian, or what ? 

George opened his mouth, obviously about to ask something like that –I guessed we were thinking along the same lines, like we often did– but thought better of it and shut it again. Before he could collect his thoughts to form a proper question, Alicia began, "Lee, would you mind making sense for a change ?"

Lee answered, "Forget it, folks. You would not understand, and she's off badly enough without your shocked faces. Just be nice to Angelina, okay ? She's having a real bad time at the moment."

But Angelina suddenly turned round again and sat up, facing Lee, her face determined. "No, Lee, you go ahead and tell them all right. I cannot stand another week like that, this barrier between you, my best friends, and myself – even being mocked must be better than that. However," and she let her gaze, suddenly full of the fire I had missed seeing there all week, sweep over us all, "I want _all_ of you to swear an oath first, since I made a promise to the headmaster that I'd keep this under wraps. Swear, all five of you, on your honour as Gryffindors, that you'll not so much as breathe a syllable of this to anybody not present at the moment." 

She looked so serious and fierce again all of a sudden that we all complied as one, including Lee. 

When Angelina heard that, she let a small sigh of relief, and faced Lee again. He tilted his head and asked her, "You absolutely sure, Angie ?" 

She just nodded and lay back flat on the blanket again, closing her eyes. I was shocked to see that she was trembling slightly. I wanted nothing so much as going over to her and holding her, but I dared not.

Lee took a deep breath, then began, "Okay, folks, Angelina's got a real problem. You see, the Mistress, she only interferes when there are two people who just _have_ to come together for some reason or other, but who never would on their own. So she goes and kisses them, and they kind of get pulled together by that. There's nothing at all they can do against it – and since they never like each other, or else the Mistress would not have been needed, the Kiss is never welcome. People have killed themselves over it – but even then, the Kiss does not let them go. An aunt of mine who lives in the Quarter told us a story when she came to visit mum last summer, of a woman who stayed around for three hundred years, and the man too, until they finally made up as ghosts a couple of years ago. You see, she was bound to a white man, too –which is rare enough– and he would not accept the pull of the Kiss, not that it helped him any."

Much as I had tried to listen to Lee intently, that talk of kissing only made half sense to me ... but that half was bad enough. From what I had gathered, Angelina had been bonded to someone against her will by some supernatural entity – and it was clear that whoever it was, it was not _me_.

Which would explain last Sunday rather well ... but the way Lee had told it, it had sounded pretty final to me; and I dearly hoped that I had misunderstood that. To lose Angie to someone else, against her own will, without having a chance to fight for her to come back to me ... I fought down the fresh wave of despair, similar to the one that had gripped me on Sunday, and turned towards her, hoping that she'd contradict Lee, somehow.

But Angelina just lay there, prone, listening, and made neither move nor sound except for her trembling.

Alicia's voice cut through my thoughts. "I am not sure I understand you, Lee. But if I do, what did you mean with 'a white man, too' ?"

Lee sighed again, and answered, "I meant that the one Angelina shares this bond with is also white; which surely makes matters more complicated, but that's not the worst of it yet. Do you remember, on Saturday, when she crashed into the teacher's stalls, that there was one of them who stood there as if lightning had struck him ? That, together with her crash, was what alerted me in the first place."

She was bound to a _teacher_ ? _Yikes_ ... but that would explain the headmaster's interest in keeping the matter silent, I thought. I strained my memory to recall what the teachers had been doing at that moment, but failed to come up with a clear picture.

But Katie suddenly went white. "You can't mean that, Lee," she whispered.

Lee, however, nodded. "Wish it were not the case, darling. Bet Angelina wishes that even more fervently. But I was talking about Snape all right."

There was a moment of shocked silence, then four, "No !"s, seemingly spoken as one. But Lee just nodded again. And Angelina, she reacted not at all, just lay there, her eyes closed to us.

Alicia was the first to find her voice again. "Lee, what exactly ... does this bond ask of the two who share it ?"

But before he could answer, Angelina spoke up again suddenly, eyes still closed. "It drives me towards him, day and night. When I sleep, I dream of him. When I let my thoughts wander, they always turn to him. When I am close to him, my whole body starts to _chime_, to be drawn towards his presence. When we lock eyes, we touch each other deep inside, all barriers melting away. When we touch, our hearts beat as one, and we both feel that we _belong_ together, that we are meant to be one. That about sums it up for you ?"

Another moment of silence – then Katie began, hesitantly, "Er ... actually, that sounds rather wonderful and romantic, Angelina – if it were anybody else, that is. Considering that you're talking about _Snape_ here, that's godawful."

Angelina snorted. "Do tell, Katie."

I had listened numbly to what Angelina had said, too aghast to speak. But my twin cast one glance at me, then turned towards Angelina, asking her, "And there is no way to ... undo that or fight it off, somehow ?"

She just shook her head. Lee added, quietly, "But she does fight it off, George. That's why she has been looking so weary all week – which was what solidified my suspicions. Her body wants to follow the pull of the Kiss, and by staving it off, she makes herself ill."

George piped up again. "And not even the headmaster could do anything about it ?" There was a mixture of anxiousness and disbelief in his voice, which I could understand; we all tended to see Dumbledore as a nearly omnipotent father-figure.

Angela shook her head again. "He called me into his office the day after the match – he knew exactly what had happened, don't ask me how. He was really sweet, actually, but even he could only offer me his understanding ... not that that wasn't a relief to me, though."

Lee nodded. "Yes, being kicked off school before you've taken your N.E.W.T.s for having an affair with a teacher would probably have been the icing on the cake – Dumbledore's a great man all right."

"He is," Angelina agreed. "But there are forces that even he cannot alter."

Katie spoke up again, "So basically, you can either bang Snape or wither away ? What a rotten choice ..."

Angelina grimaced as she answered, "Indeed." She still had neither moved nor opened her eyes – whether she was unwilling or simply afraid to face us, I could not tell.

I knew I had to say something, soon – I owed Angelina as much, at least. But it took all my courage to collect my voice, and even then my voice came out as barely more than a croak as I said, "Angie ... is there anything we can do to help you through this ?"

When she heard my voice, she finally opened her eyes and sat up, facing me, and I saw that her eyes had that dark sheen they always had when she refused to cry. She looked at me, her eyes searching mine, and said, "Fred ... I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. But there is nothing I can do about this, not for me and not for you. If you want to help me, move on. There will be little happiness for me, I fear ... it would make me feel better to know that you, at least, have found someone you can love with all your heart." She looked away, biting her lip in an attempt to stem her tears.

I sat there, torn between hurt and the desire to comfort her, to hold her close, to let her rest her head on my shoulder and help her let those tears flow. But hadn't she told me to move on ?

Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my side. I looked down in surprise to find Alicia having moved next to me and poking me in the ribs. "Go to her, you big oaf," she whispered, barely audible over the sounds of the rain outside.

As I said, I had never pretended to understand women. But I was thankful for another female helping me out there. And so I got up and went over to Angie, sat down beside her, and took her in my arms, stroking her hair, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, all the things I should have said much sooner. She stiffened for a moment, but then clung to me like a drowning woman, sobbing into my shoulder while her hands clutched my back.

When her sobs finally subsided, she looked up into my eyes, whispering, "Thank you, Fred. I know you will make some lucky girl incredibly happy some day."

I planted a last kiss of goodbye on her forehead, telling her quietly, "You will be happy too, I know it, Angie. Even a bastard like Snape can do nothing but love someone as lovely as you." Then I quickly got up, before my courage left me and I collapsed next to her, and took my old spot again, at some distance.

The others watched me silently, obviously not sure what, if anything, to say that would not feel like they were invading our privacy. Finally Alicia cleared her throat, and asked, "Angelina, is there anything we can do ? We are your friends, and whatever we can do to make that easier, we will."

Angelina took a deep breath before she answered, "Yes, you can. Please, all of you, don't treat me like you did all week, like an Ashwinder egg ready to burst into flames. Just be my friends, like you always used to – with all the laughter, and the fun, and the jokes, and even the quarrelling. That was why I asked Lee to tell you all of this. Now you know what is wrong with me, and we can go back to being friends again. Okay ? I need all of you so very much ... you are like a second family to me. I don't think I can stand this if you don't stand by me."

Alicia tried her best at a little smile, and said, "Okay, Ange. We'll try to keep your ego from swelling to even more intolerable dimensions just cause you're a teacher's pet now, is that the spirit ?"

I held my breath –I think we all did– but Angelina guffawed, "Yes, that's the spirit, Ali !"

I heaved a sigh of relief. Women – I really would never even _begin_ to understand them, but I was glad that, at least, they seemed to have little difficulty with it amongst themselves.

The mood had been lifted considerably by that little exchange, and Lee, sensing that, handed out second helpings of the desserts he had brought, and soon we all sat, munching, and even chatting a bit, in a surprisingly relaxed manner. But suddenly Angelina tensed.

"What is it, Angelina ?" Lee asked her.

Angelina put down her plate. "He is coming here," she answered. No one needed to ask who she meant.

But before anyone could comment her announcement, a tall shadow blocked most of the light streaming in. It was Snape alright, looking tired and even paler than usual; he entered the cave, his gaze on Angelina, starting to say something. Then for the first time he seemed to notice the rest of us sitting there, for he started and closed his mouth again.

But only a second later, before any of us could react to his sudden entrance, he sneered, his voice dripping with venom, "And what would six young Gryffindors be doing, hiding away from the castle, in a weather like this ? May I dare conclude that this is no harmless picnic, as first appearance would suggest, but rather an attempt to hide from the results of some crime as of yet undetected ? Make no mistake, I _will_ find out what you were up to."

Lee, in an obviously controlled voice, answered, "Picnics are not forbidden, Sir. And I assure you that having a picnic is all we planned for this afternoon."

Snape turned towards him, glaring down on him. "In seven years, I have found that _nothing_ that includes the Weasley twins is ever as harmless as it first may appear. And while picnics per se are not forbidden, open fires during the warm season are, as you should well know, Mister Jordan." He pointed his wand at the small fire still burning in the back of the cave, and it died instantly. "That will be ten points from Gryffindor for endangering safety and creating a fire hazard."

__

Creating a fire hazard ? It was _pouring_ outside by now, although Snape himself was all dry; I had to bite my lip not to say anything that would cost Gryffindor another ten points at least.

Snape, meanwhile, turned towards Angelina again, who had watched him with surprising calmness. He glared at her, snarling, "As for you, Miss Johnson, maybe you were of the impression that just because two years had passed since you were in my class, I would fail to recognise your handwriting anymore. I assure you that this is not the case. Follow me to arrange for your detention, and be glad that I am in a lenient mood today, or it would be another twenty points from Gryffindor _and_ a detention." With that, he turned around and strode outside, not waiting for her to get up.

Angelina stood up, and I saw to my surprise that there was a little _smile_ on her face... with a whispered, "I'll be okay !" she followed him outside, and they vanished in the rain.

I stared after them, dumbstruck; two years of not having Potions in my N.E.W.T. roster had almost let me forget just _what_ a bastard Snape was. The thought of him touching Angie, let alone entering her, made red sparks dance before my eyes and let me wish I had enough raw power to cast one of the Unforgivables – any would do fine. 

But to my vast surprise I heard Katie giggling, and Alicia whispering something in her ear, which produced another giggle. Lee and George were staring at them as if they were mad, and I could not fault them for it – what was funny about this horrid situation ?

Katie finally realised our reaction, and she sighed, exasperated. "You menfolk are so incredibly dense sometimes ... don't you realise that he went out to look for her, in the rain, because he was worried about her ? Didn't you see his face when he came inside ? Everything from the moment on when he noticed us others was probably ad-libbed; seems he's quite the actor, I'll grant him that."

Alicia nodded and added, "Seeing that show was easily worth ten points from Gryffindor. And I am relieved to see that even Snape obviously cannot help but care for her well-being; which is a good thing. For if I were her, I'd so go and throw myself off the Astronomy tower rather than face a life with him ... we'll be there to help her so that she won't do something drastic like that, of course, but it's good to see we have an unlikely ally in that endeavour."

Seeing Snape as any sort of _ally_ was a mindset that I felt was completely beyond my grasp for the moment. But I hoped I could trust the girls' instincts there.

The fire having been snuffed out, the cave was becoming clammy, and so we agreed to return to the castle, packing the remains of the picnic into Lee's basket and then venturing out into the rain. We made our way uphill as quickly as we could, saving our breath for the occasional jog. 

All the way up, I tried my hardest not to think of Angelina being alone with Snape right now and what he would do to her. Of course, I failed utterly.


	13. Severus

Chapter Thirteen : Severus

__

"A man's heart is stony ground. He grows what he can, and tends it." - Stephen King

I stormed back uphill towards the castle, not bothering to check whether the girl was managing to keep up with me –the feeling of her presence behind me suggested she was, anyway– inwardly cursing my idiocy. 

Here I had been, correcting essays, when all of a sudden I had felt anxiousness and disquiet come over me, out of the blue – and after a moment had sorted out that those were not _my_ feelings. Something had clearly been happening to Miss Johnson – and before I had even realised my actions I had been up and out in the rain, guided by blind instinct. I had felt like a damn fool for letting myself be driven such, and scared beyond words by the fact that we now seemed to be bleeding emotions through the bond, as well – but that was nothing compared to what I had felt like when I had realised that she had not been lost or anything, but simply _having_ _a_ _picnic_ with the rest of the Gryffindor morons. 

The worst of it, I contemplated, steaming inwardly, was that I could not even blame my idiocy on her. It had been all my own doing, running out into the weather like a fool. What _had_ I been thinking ?

__

Be honest to yourself, Severus. The answer, pure and simple, was that I had missed her presence terribly, however much I detested her companionship. But this bloody Zingsti had taken such a strong hold of me that the last evenings I had found myself equally dreading and hoping that she would come for another visit, and loathing myself for it. Since she had not, the urge to seek her out on my own had become stronger and stronger, but I had managed to keep it down.

Until today of course, when I had been surprised and distracted, which had been enough for my control to slip and for me to make a fool out of myself.

We finally reached the castle, and I took the most direct route to my quarters, not bothering with secrecy – anybody seeing me in such a mood with a student trailing after me would doubtless come to the conclusion that detention awaited her, and pity her from a safe distance. Indeed, the few students we encountered hastily moved out my way, and we reached the dungeons undisturbed.

I unwarded my door and entered, flung my cloak over the hanger next to it and turned around to face Miss Johnson, whose presence I felt behind me as a continuing reminder of my folly – only to realise that she was soaking wet, the rain dripping from her cloak to form small puddles on my floor. 

Appalled –were those brats paying as little attention to Flitwick's lessons as they were to mine ?– I pulled out my wand and with a sneer of disdain removed the wetness on her before she ruined any of my carpets. She simply watched me with the hint of an odd smile on her lips, then thanked me in a small voice and hung her cloak next to mine.

I did some quick thinking – now that I had actually dragged her down here, what the hell was I going to _do_ with her ? I should probably try and pretend I had some reason for my odd actions, I reasoned ... so that meant talking, little as I liked that idea. Only, I could not well take her into my garden since its enchanted ceiling mirrored every aspect of the actual sky, in contrast to the one in the Great Hall, so it was currently pouring down there as much as it was outside – I had always maintained that Arabella was an old loony. And I was loathe to stay here in my office with her – about the last thing I needed was for a colleague to make a Floo call and draw all the wrong conclusions. So that only left one other real option, and that one I did not like at all. 

But it looked like it could not be helped, so I grudgingly told her to follow me and lead her into my living room. As I entered and went towards the hearth to light a fire –it was becoming a bit clammy in here in this weather– I saw her stopping to cast a surreptitious look around. I sighed inwardly – females' annoying curiosity had always grated on my nerves, and following her look taking in the sofa, the still paintings on the wall, the old Grandfather clock –all the Muggle items I had brought here from the manor– I could almost see the questions forming in her brain, which I resolved to ignore when they came up. Having taken care of the hearth, I took my seat and invited her to do the same with a curt gesture.

Silence stretched uncomfortably between us, and I knew ought to break it by some pretence of an explanation. Only I could not think of any as of yet, so I started with something else I hated to do but which was probably necessary –or Albus would have my hide– saying, "Ten points to Gryffindor for playing along with me and coming along quietly, Miss Johnson, to make up for those I had to deduct from your classmates," trying to sound nonchalant about it instead of grinding my teeth.

She gave me another of those enigmatic little smiles as she said, "Thank you, Sir – and impressive improvisation, by the way, even though it was not necessary ... they now know about it."

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They what ? I almost said it aloud in shock, but then got a grip on myself, merely commenting, "You have an interesting interpretation of the headmaster's directive of discretion, Miss Johnson."

She chuckled softly –what _was_ so bloody amusing her today ?– answering, "Professor, we have been together in class, in the Quidditch team and for most of our free time for close to seven years now, don't you think they might have realised on their own that something was amiss ? Besides, Lee knew already, or came close anyway, although he called it by some Voudoun term. If I had not told them, they would have snooped after me for sure sooner or later, and made everyone else suspicious in the process. Now they know, they have sworn to keep it a secret, and they can pretend everything's normal, which should allay anybody else's potential suspicions."

That sounded somewhat logical, yet the concept of five additional Gryffindors being privy to this whole sorry mess did not appeal to me, to put it mildly. And it was also a matter of some concern security-wise, as I had rather very much not have Voldemort receive that information. Yet, the damage had already been done, and casting _Obliviate_ on the lot was not really the best of options either, as all save Bell had wizarding parents and one of them might accidentally find out about the tampering. _Oh, bugger_.

I glared at her. "That is a lot of trust to put into a simple oath, Miss Johnson. Let us hope that your foolish Gryffindor instinct was not misguided this time. The results might be unpleasant."

She shook her head. "I know I can trust my friends."

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Yes, that is what I once thought, too. But I knew better than to voice this; instead I said, packing every ounce of sarcasm I could manage into my voice, "No use crying over spilt milk, anyway. But tell me, who else have you in your wisdom chosen to include into this elusive circle of witnesses ?"

She looked at me quizzically. "Why, no one, of course. Do you think I am so keen on being the laughing stock of the school ?"

__

Charming as usual, if probably true. But I merely responded, "I am indeed glad to hear that. But, from what I remember of you telling about your family, I am surprised to hear that you told your classmates, but not them." 

She shook her head fiercely. "My family can be crushing in their love sometimes. If I wrote to them about the situation, you'd have two dozen relatives apparating at the gates of Hogwarts sooner than you could say Zingsti, swarming out to see if I was okay and threatening you to treat me well or they'd hex you into next week. No, they are about the last ones I would tell at the moment."

I nodded, trying to look merely in contempt of such pedestrian people instead of the mixture of disgust and slight panic I felt. Good thing the girl felt the same about her relatives' possible intervention – an invasion of Johnsons bugging me about their little girl would not only blow the cover on the matter sky high but also most likely result in me being on trial for using an assortment of Unforgivables. 

Miss Johnson interrupted my unpleasant thoughts by saying, "But that can't have been the reason you came for me, Sir, since you did not know about it beforehand. So why did you seek me out ?"

__

Damn. Silence stretched between us uncomfortably as I desperately groped for a reason, _any_ reason, yet all my quick thinking seemed to have fled me for once. _Good grief, man,_ I thought, disgusted, _does her mere presence cause all the blood that is usually used to power your brain to become otherwise occupied ?_ But nevertheless, I had to say _something_, so without any other options left I reluctantly stuck to the truth, saying, "I felt that there was something amiss with you. I did not wish to interrupt your gathering; I was under the impression you were lost or in some danger."

Surprise was plain on her face; she pondered this for a moment, then replied, her tone incredulous, "I was anxious about how my friends would react, and then I was finally saying goodbye to Fred ... so yes, there was something badly 'amiss' with how I felt. But the fact that you could feel that is ... disturbing, to put it bluntly."

"Do tell, Miss Johnson," I replied dryly. 

She looked at me with a haunted look in her eyes. "This is even worse than I realised. My great-grandmother never told any stories of _this_. Let us just hope that only happens when the other is feeling really strongly about something."

I nodded. "It is also entirely possible that this is something that can be channelled or will vanish again, like an untrained young wizard's or witch's magic that causes all sorts of weird effects in their environment, which stop once they have learned to work proper magic." At least it was my fervent hope that it would work like that, I added silently. This Zingsti was bad enough on its own without any _additional_ loss of privacy – any more of this and even I would be tempted to try and take the risk to find out if I really remained behind as a ghost.

She stared through the windows to my garden, not really seeing. "I hope so. This is entirely too much even as it is." Her voice was trembling slightly.

__

Ah, so finally even that facade of bravery our little Gryffindor puts up begins to crack. Oddly, though, I did not feel as elated as I should have. What _was_ the matter with me today ? Normally, I found few things in life as delightful as showing these insipid brats that their bravado did not stem from some special inner virtue but from sheer cluelessness. Instead, my instincts were howling that I should go and take her in my arms or do something equally mushy-hearted. I shook my head in disgust.

Miss Johnson suddenly seemed to have got a grip on herself, for she faced me again, and told me, her voice trembling but clear, "But then, there is only one way to go, and that is getting on with it. If your theory is true, then this would stop additional effects like that from appearing anymore, and I would be deeply grateful for that. We should have an easier time overall, anyway, once we have given in to the pull of Zingsti. And I for one surely could do with an easier time after this hell of a week."

I inhaled sharply. _So that is what you get for not treading on a Gryffindor who's already down for once. See where your bleeding heart has brought you, you idiot._ I began, trying to sound cool, "Miss Johnson, I do not see matters between us having changed in any great way since we last discussed this. I do not even like you, let alone want you, and I am sure this is reciprocal. I know that hoping for this to change is probably wishful thinking, yet it seems the only way to go. Let me assure you that I do not appreciate the workings of this curse on my body and mind either. But I will not bend to some outlandish magic's idea of what I am supposed to do. I thought we had reached an agreement on this matter."

Her dark eyes glittered as she mustered me. "Such a noble, high-and-mighty take on things. But it has never occurred to you to stop and ask if _I_ could take it anymore, has it ? And the answer is that I simply cannot, especially not with such uncontrolled side-effects on top of it. I have not had a decent night's sleep in a week. I cannot concentrate in classes because all I can think of is how your blasted body would feel under my hands, how soft your lips would be on mine, and then I am so disgusted of myself I am almost sick right in the middle of a lesson. I have to take my N.E.W.T.s in eight weeks and there is no way I can get even an hour of studying ! No, I do not like you either. I do not want you either. But I have dreamed so damn often of opening up to you that I don't see how doing it for real, for once, could make things any worse. Waiting for desire to appear is all sweet and romantic, but it's clear by now that it's not going to appear at the rate we are treating each other –not if you continue to push me away whenever we are making the slightest bit of progress, and I keep avoiding you– and I for one sure cannot wait that much longer or I'll break down." She stared at me angrily, her whole body trembling slightly.

I fought to control myself – her mention of dreams had brought a whole flood of images washing over me, her beautiful body below me, willing, pliant, welcoming me, enfolding me ... I angrily shook my head to clear it; those dream-memories were about the last thing I needed right now. I began, "I am sorry to hear that you seem to have such trouble controlling the situation, Miss Johnson. But I fail to see how this should affect my actions."

She exploded, "Stop it with the arrogance already ! I am sorry I am not as _controlled_ as you are, or at least not as good at feeding that hogwash to myself. But either you'll try and help me to find a solution that works better than 'waiting for a miracle to happen' or I'll just come over and sit down on your lap, embrace you and we both know what is going to happen then."

Reflexively jumping up from my seat, I packed all the bile I could into my voice. "Stay away from me, Miss Johnson. I am not interested in your forced advances."

All of a sudden, her anger left her again. She looked up at me wearily. "I am not interested in them either, Sir. In fact, I am horrified at the thought. But I will do what I must to survive this with my life and sanity intact. Either you help me or you don't, and if you don't, it's no-holds-barred for me either. Make up your mind."

I leaned against the mantelpiece, trying to regain my composure and dignity. "Your way of gaining my cooperation could well be described as coercion. So when the noble Gryffindor way fails, you turn to the Slytherin methods you all normally profess to despise. Interesting. Say what you want of me and I will consider it."

That haunting look of sadness she had worn when she had first come to visit me had returned. "Stop fighting me, Professor. And stop pretending that you have it all under control and that I am such a weakling for letting the Zingsti's pull affect me so. If you keep telling me that I am weak, you need not wonder when my strength of will is sapped and I break down like I just did. You cannot save what you consider your dignity on cost of mine. We're in this together, and I want my old life back just as fiercely as you do, only neither of us can. Ever since last Saturday, we stand together, or we fall together. You keep chipping at my base, you fall down too."

I looked back at her levelly. "There is no 'we', Miss Johnson."

She met my gaze, holding it, and as we slowly began to open up to each other she said, "There is _only_ 'we' anymore, Professor. The sooner you get to grips with that, the better my chance to come out of this in one piece."

I tried to break the eye contact, but the light shimmering in her dark eyes held me steady as my barriers slowly began to fade away at her mind's soft touch. I found myself reduced to a mere whisper of, "I do not want this ..."

She answered in a soft voice, "Neither do I. But unfortunately it seems no one asked."

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There is only we anymore ... her voice echoed in my brain, round and round. Every part of me was screaming a silent, _No !_ in response. But she had had the right of it, I realised. I could go on and deny it, pushing her away, but the bond between us was so strong and ran so deep that sooner or later I would break her.

And I found that I could not do that. 

That girl had been thrust into this bond with me against her will as much as I against mine, and for her it surely was just as much a nightmare as for me. While I had done my share of rather questionable things, I had never taken an innocent's life. And that was what this would come down to, in the end.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, then said, "I do not wish you harm, Miss Johnson. I am fully aware of the fact that you are under a lot of pressure due to this Zingsti and that I am not making matters any easier for you. But the whole concept of making matters easier for _any_body is rather foreign to my nature. I am not sure I am up to it."

She slowly got up from her seat, taking a step towards me, eyes still holding my gaze. "Give it a try and find out," she said, covering the distance between us in a few more halting steps and offering me her right hand.

I hesitated for a moment – I remembered all too well what had happened the last time we had touched; and if I could not push her away, I had no idea if I could keep control over my actions. But it _was_ true, there was no way around this sooner or later, and I would not dread it any less by keeping on postponing it. A flash of memory came unbidden – last year, deep down below the castle, the gate and the _whispers_ ... and yet I had remained strong, had found the fortitude, deep inside me, to complete my task. I had danced with the dragon; fearing this mere girl and what she could do to me through this bond was ridiculous in comparison.

__

She will not try to harm you. Even though you did so yourself. It's more than you deserve, if you are honest. Go ahead and face your fears, already. Slowly, I reached out and took her hand into mine.

When our hands met and touched, once again a warmth so intense it was hardly bearable spread through my fingers and slowly began to rise through the veins of my arm. It was, in a way, the most wonderful feeling, welcomed and cherished, like coming out of a blizzard to settle before a warm hearth – but the bitter cold fleeing my body left an intense and acute pain in its wake, and the thawed flesh was tender and easily hurt.

And yet, there was a need for this warmth in me, a hunger so intense that it had shocked me badly enough to break the connection last time – the spell's handiwork was bad enough to bear, but to find out that there was a part of me that actually _welcomed_ this bond was even worse. But I knew I would have to bear it this time, no matter how much the intensity of my own emotions frightened me. 

Yet, there was no denying that the simple touch of her hand was pure bliss to my soul. 

I studied her eyes, still locked with mine, and she returned my gaze, joy plainly on her face, but also wariness. I could not fault her – this was about the time where I would, under normal circumstances, have broken this and pushed her away ruthlessly. Our heartbeats were joined in a frantic pace, each matching the other's anxiety.

I returned her gaze as openly as I could –_I mean no harm–_ but the fear remained in her eyes. I realised that it would be up to me to reassure her ... since I had, after all, caused her anxiety in the first place. I was not keen on adding more emotional upheaval, and pain – but I knew that, should she lose her nerve and bolt from the room, it would be far worse. I now understood why she had not returned after what had happened in the garden ... I would not have either, truth be told.

Ah well, I probably would not have come down here in the first place. Most Gryffindors were all bravado and arrogance, but this one had true courage.

The respect I was grudgingly beginning to feel for her showed me the way to go. Reaching back to the lessons of my youth, I brought her hand up to my lips, and without breaking eye contact planted a kiss on the back of her palm, paying my respects to her as I would to a lady.

Her dark skin felt exquisitely soft and smooth under my lips, just as I had dreamed it would. And even though the feeling was so intense I felt like my face was on fire, it was a good feeling, strangely calming me, as her warmth swept over me, matching the one in my arm. Her eyes, having widened in surprise at first, softened and lost that haunted look, and she gave me the shyest of smiles. _Oh, how her eyes light up when she smiles ..._

The deep chime of the Grandfather clock suddenly startled us both out of the half-trance our contact had put us into. She looked at me with a confused expression, and I explained, my voice oddly hoarse, "Curfew."

Hearing that word out of my own mouth finally brought my mind to work again, and letting our hands sink down –yet, I could not bring myself to let go of her– I continued, "Your classmates probably told anyone who asked about you that you were on detention with me. You had better return, or it might look odd for me to have kept you beyond curfew."

She nodded slightly, then with visible effort averted her eyes and turned towards the door. I lead her to the front door of my office, her hand still in mine, and stopping there told her, "If Filch catches you on your way back up, tell him I kept you in detention until now and direct him to verify that with me."

She turned back again then, and with a slightly crooked smile told me, "He won't. Trust me. Good night, Professor !" And with a last squeeze of my hand she was through the door and had vanished into the dark maze of the corridors.

I stood there for maybe a minute or two, holding on to the doorframe, keeping myself from blindly following her ... all my instincts were crying in protest as she left, and the warmth in my body was slowly beginning to fade. But at least, I realised, that strange haze that had seemingly settled over my mind began to vanish as well – leaving me appalled at my own behaviour.

I hesitated for another moment, but then told my sense of duty to go hang and slammed the door shut again, returning to my living room – the castle would survive if I did not go on patrol tonight. 

A couple of minutes later I sat on my sofa, brooding over a large cup of tea ... what _was_ this Zingsti turning me into ? Had I really actively encouraged the girl by showing her my respect ?

Yet, even now I found I could not simply forget her words, and could not deny the truth in what she said – I literally had her life in my hands. _Bloody hell_, I exploded silently, _I never asked for this ! What have I done to deserve this ? My life is complicated enough as it is._

A traitorous little voice deep inside my mind objected. _You could have done worse, you know. At least you know you can trust her ... she is so convinced that this Zingsti is oh so important that she will not deny you in return._

__

Trust her ? Madness. And I do not see how I could have done worse than being bonded to a Gryffindor.

Okay, now _that_ one was unfair, even I had to admit that. And I knew that, in a way, I could rely on her.

But I still bloody resented that I had to go through this at all.

I sighed. No use crying over spilt milk, as my father had often said. The bond was there, and I saw no way to remove this blasted thing – she had been absolutely right about that. And so she and I were stuck with trying to find an arrangement to make _both_ our future lives bearable. All she had asked for so far was merely for me not to hurt her. That sounded like the least I was obliged to give her; whether or not I liked the fact was irrelevant.

__

But what is it that I want from her ?

The answer that I mostly wanted for her to keep out of my hair as much as humanly possible came quickly. But that traitorous little voice spoke up again, mocking me.

__

You know what you are hoping for deep down inside, don't you ? You keep hoping that this Zingsti means that she is the one you always longed for, your companion, the one with whom you could just be yourself, to whom you could reach out with your joy and your fears and your hopes and dreams and yes, your lust. The one who would give herself to you, fully, who would share her life with you, who would come to you when she was angry, or happy, or just plain tired, and who would know she never needed to be anyone but herself because you both would understand that you were a team, come good and bad, that you would face whatever came together ...

I drained my cup and told the voice inside me firmly to shut up. Those had been a very young man's foolish hopes, and I was an adult now, knowing better than to chase after sappy ideas of love I once might have had. 

Banishing those delusions back into the past where they belonged, I extinguished the lightglobes and went to bed, hoping for at least a few hours of undisturbed sleep tonight, even though I knew this hope, like most hopes, was nothing but the fruit of a weak and weary mind.


	14. Albus

Chapter Fourteen : Albus

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"Wizards should not go seeking revenge, killing, or death in general. After all, revenge, death and killing in general have a way of showing up whether you are looking for them or not."

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from The Teachings of Ebenezum, _Volume I_

I helped myself to another bowl of that delightful chocolate-frosted cereal while watching the sleepy faces of the few students and teachers that were already up and having an early Sunday breakfast. 

Minerva was up already, of course, looking almost annoyingly awake, and discussing the latest Thaumaturgic Times with Professor Ogham over a bowl of fresh strawberries. Otherwise, the teacher's table was deserted apart from Severus, who seemed to have finished his breakfast and was merely glaring at the few assembled students – even though none of them looked awake enough to be capable of any mischief, I thought, slightly amused. Sleepy-looking as they all were, though, only one of them matched Severus himself in looking, quite frankly, as if they had not slept at all this week – Angelina Johnson, of course.

I sighed quietly ... I dearly loved Severus, but that girl sure had had quite a burden thrust upon her by fate. And I could think of so very little to help her ... I did not know her particularly well, truth be told, and so I felt that the task of being the proverbial shoulder to cry on was better tackled by her class. Indeed, they were there with her, even though the two girls in particular looked as if they'd fall asleep any second. And by the way the Weasley twins were directing glares at Severus when they thought nobody would notice, I felt sure she had poured out her heart to them. Which was to be expected, discretion or no, and did not particularly alarm me – Gryffindors, in times of trouble, tended to stick together tightly.

Resolutely, I pushed the memory of Peter Pettigrew back – being pessimistic would serve no one. I would simply remain observant. And Miss Johnson needed any help she could get.

Severus, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. His nature was neither easygoing enough to form friendships easily –in fact, 'easygoing' about summed up all that he was not– nor did he share his troubles with anyone if he could help it. I sometimes thought that he might consider me as a sort of friend, but that was probably hubris. In short, I could not think of a lot of ways to help him through this, either.

And I positively _hated_ being helpless.

I sighed again. Ah well, I had to talk to Severus in private this morning, anyway, concerning this letter my colleague from the Massachusetts Institute of Magic had sent me, so maybe ...

__

Wishful thinking, you old fool.

Severus seemed to be about to leave the table, so I reluctantly left the rest of my cereal and got up myself to head him off. When he saw me coming, his eyes became wary – so much for that hope. I quietly told him, "Would you mind joining me in my office for a second breakfast, Severus ? I am in need of your expertise concerning potions."

He tensed at my words about a second breakfast, but then relaxed again upon hearing the rest. He nodded curtly, and we made our way up to my office.

I asked a house-elf to fetch some more breakfast for the two of us, and got myself another bowl of cereal with some extra honey – Severus, as I had expected, took nothing, merely scowled at me, wordlessly urging me to go on.

I sighed inwardly, then decided that trying to get him to relax was a lost cause, and began, "Severus, please let me first assure you that the question I am about to ask you has a very good reason. That being said, how much do you know about Muggle psychedelic drugs ?"

He looked at me in surprise. "Not much, to be honest, apart from some anecdotes about my brothers getting their meagre minds buzzed through a straw at their boarding school. Why do you ask ?"

I put down my spoon. "I received a letter from my colleague at the MIM yesterday evening, telling me of a very curious incident he says an acquaintance of his witnessed some three decades ago – the death of a Dementor."

Severus' eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then he raised an eyebrow, saying, "Almost impossible, I would say. How is this supposed to have happened, and how reliable is this acquaintance ?"

"He swears that she is a respectable woman these days," I answered. "And supposedly this happened at a huge Muggle gathering where a lot of said substances were in circulation. Apparently there was a lot of what was supposed to be music, too, but she said this was less likely as the cause."

He still looked sceptical. "And how did this Dementor purportedly die ?"

"According to the letter," I answered, "a dozen or so were attracted to this huge emotional cesspool and began feeding off the Muggles, unseen by them. But after a while, one of them tried to feed off one particular girl that seemed so completely taken by the effect of whatever she had taken that the Dementor drained her, and drained her, and still she would smile absentmindedly, seemingly unaffected. The Dementor then tried harder, to no avail, and finally it had taken up too much, or so it seemed, of whatever she had given off and exploded in a hazy cloud. The others of its kind, having seen that, fled the place hastily and did not return."

"A tall tale," Severus commented. "So what you say is that through substance abuse some Muggle became a kind of human Patronus, consisting of happy feelings only ?"

"I know it sounds odd," I sighed. "And it cannot be easy to reproduce, since it was probably just a lucky chance – the other drug-affected Muggles fed the Dementors just as well or, in some cases, even better than the average human. But still, this is the first lead we have had in ages."

"So you expect me to analyse these substances, don't you ?" Severus sounded slightly peeved. "Albus, I know nothing about them, up to and including where to get them in the first place."

"Hmm ... I think I might know who could get some for you," I commented.

"I sure do not want to know any details about this," he replied.

"Fine with me, Severus. And thanks for volunteering to analyse them," I smiled. He just scowled as I went back to my cereal.

He watched me take a bite or two, still scowling, then commented wearily, "Now ask already, old man."

I looked up in surprise. "Ask what ?"

He sighed. "Stop pretending you will let me leave your den without asking me about how things proceed with this damned curse upon Miss Johnson and myself. You are not fooling anyone."

I could not help but smile a little. "Well, now that you mention it yourself ... how are things going between Miss Johnson and you, Severus ?"

"I never said I would actually _answer_ such a question," he replied. "But there is little to tell anyway. She detests me, I detest her, neither of us has got any decent sleep for a week, and death has never looked so inviting to me before."

I shook my head. "You would never take that way out, Severus."

He scowled. "Yes, and damn you for being right ! It would be a lot easier than trying to find a way of living with this bond."

I replied, "Two people coming together is never _easy_, Severus. Granted, them actually _liking_ each other is a great help, but there are still a lot of obstacles to overcome."

His scowl deepened. "And how would you know of it, old man ? In the quarter of a century I have known you, I have never seen you so much as flirt, let alone _come together_ with anybody. Please leave that sort of mushy advice to the agony aunt of Witch's Weekly."

I smiled sadly. "When the sun has set, no mere candle can replace it, Severus."

He replied hotly, "See ? That's another of those ..." then suddenly stopped. "Just what are you trying to tell me ?" he drawled.

I shook my head. "Nothing. Ignore an old man's ramblings; there are some things better left buried by the sands of time. But never assume, Severus, that things have always been like they are now. By wizard's standards, you are still a stripling, and sometimes even you actually show it." I gave him a little smile.

The scowl had returned. "Old, curious, miserly bastard. You try and get everyone else around you to spill their innermost secrets to you, but never even disclose that you _have_ any secrets of your own, if you can help it. Are you perfectly sure the hat placed you in Gryffindor ?"

"Well, that is my story and I am sticking to it," I replied, beaming at him, knowing this would upset him further. It was a dangerous gamble – plus I was improvising, since it would never have occurred to me that _this_ was the way I could possibly get him out of his shell. But it was worth a try.

Indeed, his scowl deepened. "Well, old man, Gryffindor or not, we are playing this by the Serpent's Den rules now. You want me to tell you anything, you spill your _own_ beans first."

__

Got you. "Okay," I replied, my smile widening, "deal. Of course, you realise that after my tale has been told, it will be your turn."

His eyes glittered balefully. "I am going to ask the hat about you one of these days." Then his features relaxed a bit, and he sighed, "Well, it was not as if I expected you to let me get away, anyway. And now come on, tell me about this sun of yours."

Refusing to be offended by his tone –I knew he did not take well to defeat– I merely shook my head a little and began, "I am not sure why you even want to hear this tale, Severus, as my love died for half a century ago. But if you insist ... " I closed my eyes, straining to travel back in the vast maze of my memories.

"Joshua and I met when we were not long out of apprenticeship, and we were lovers for more than seventy years." I heard Severus inhale sharply in surprise when I mentioned Joshua's name, but he was too well-bred to show any other reaction. I continued, "We were bound together by love as much as insatiable curiosity for the ways of magic, and travelled for most of our partnership, visiting all continents, learning from mystics and shamans, from witch doctors and sorcerers. We learned, we loved, we shared. I could not have imagined any better life."

"Back then," I continued, "neither of us was really interested in the Muggle world – not when there was so much magic out there that we had not yet seen and learned. Joshua, however, had ... experimented ... during his apprenticeship, and he had a daughter, Sarah, by a Muggle woman of his people. Sarah also was a Muggle, and Joshua loved her dearly –as did I– and whenever we were passing through, or staying, in Europe, we would take a stop in Passau and visit her, and later her children too, and her grandchildren, and be happy with what was our family, in a way."

"In hindsight, though, our failure to pay more attention to the ways of the Muggles cost us dearly. We were in New Zealand for a couple of years, studying Maori wizards' rituals and the rich magical fauna of the area. When we came back to Europe, we went to pay our usual visit to Sarah and her family – only to learn that a madness of the most hideous sort had taken hold of the Muggles, and that Sarah was dead, and her children, and even the little ones; they had all been killed, for no other reason than their ancestry."

"Something inside Joshua snapped, and snapped badly. Whatever I tried to comfort and calm him, it was of no avail. When he finally came out of his fits of senseless rage and destruction, he declared that since the Muggles showed even less sense than the common beasts, who never turned on each other without any reason, they should be treated as such by their superiors, the wizards. He went on to found an order called the Hand of Justice, who took it as their task to disperse heavy-handed vigilante justice against the Muggles they deemed deserving of punishment."

"Now many of the European wizards and witches, who had been witnessing the madness spreading among the Muggles firsthand, found this stance and his order to be a sensible concept, and its ranks soon swelled. I tried to warn him, so often, that by this course of action he would become just like those he detested so much, but it was of no avail, he would not listen to me. He had become obsessed with the Hand and with what he deluded himself was justice."

"Finally I realised that there was only one way left for me to go. I joined forces with those wizards and witches who, lead by the Order of the Phoenix, were trying to stop the grisly doings of the Hand of Justice. The war was long and bloody – not a reign of terror like Voldemort's, sure, for both sides only accepted volunteers and tried not to let neutral wizards and witches come to harm; but so _huge_ ... battles were fought all over Europe, and even in some other parts of the wizarding world. But finally we prevailed. One by one, the Hands were brought to their senses, or stopped forever – all of them but their leader."

"During the fighting, it had become clear that all the studying and learning Joshua and I had undertaken solely for the pleasure of knowledge translated into rather frightening amounts of fighting power when put to the test. All too many wizards and witches went against him both in open duels and in surprise attacks, and none of them returned. He seemed unstoppable. And to this day I rue that it took me so long to realise that there was only one wizard who was able to stop him. And so I went to the Black Forest, and I pleaded with him one last time, even though I knew it was no use. Then I challenged him, won, and then buried him with my own hands at a site whose location I will take to my grave. And then I returned to the wizarding world, and was celebrated as their saviour, and elected as the one to replace the deceased head of the Order of the Phoenix. None of them realised –or wanted to realise– that my own heart was buried there in the forest; it has lain there undisturbed for fifty years now."

I slowly opened my eyes, returning to the present, to find Severus staring at me, pale. "Joshua ... Grindelwald ?"

I just nodded.

Severus seemed at a loss of words. I poured myself another cup of tea and, sipping it, waited him out. Finally, he managed, "Bugger, Albus, I did not mean to stir something like _this_ up again in you ! Why didn't you stop me ?"

I gave him a smile over the rim of my teacup. "You did not stir up anything bad, my dear boy. With time, all bitterness flees from memories. When I nowadays think of Joshua –and there is not a single day that I do not– I remember us sitting together in the Kalahari, sharing stories with our hosts at a campfire and looking up to the stars in the clear, wide night sky. My mind's eye sees us travelling up the Orinoco, or huddled together against the bitter cold of a Tibetan monastery. Those few, bad years when we grew estranged do not count much against a lifetime of love. And I hope that now, freed from a mortal's limited point of view, he can see why I had to act like I did, and that he is watching me from beyond the Veil, waiting for me to finally finish this task laid upon me, so that I can come and join him at last, and we will pass beyond the Mountains together ... all the same, I never dared cross the Veil ever since I killed him. There are some hopes a man cannot afford to possibly lose."

An odd shadow passed Severus' face when I said that. He seemed preoccupied for a few moments, then remarked, "I think I shall have some more tea, after all, or what passes for tea in this castle," and poured himself a cup.

We drank in silence for a while. Severus was the one to finish his cup first, and, putting it down and refilling it, he sighed. "All I can think of telling you of my own predicament sounds so incredibly petty right now. Somehow, my lament of _What have I done to deserve this ?_ does not have quite that dramatic ring anymore." He laughed mirthlessly. "But I suppose I needed a correction of my perspective more than anything, anyway. Miss Johnson correctly told me so, yesterday."

"That she did ?" I mentally added, _And she walked out of your rooms in one piece ?_

He nodded. "Truth be told, she handles this blasted situation far better than I ever would have given her credit for – and a lot better than _I_ handle it, in fact. Being bonded with me must be the stuff she could not have imagined in her worst nightmares, and yet she faces it bravely and with determination. Remarkable for a Gryffindor, indeed."

I suppressed a smile ... Severus being who he was, I had expected that slam at the end of what sounded remarkably like a genuine compliment. Draining and refilling my own cup, I replied, "She was better prepared for it, Severus. This is African magic, after all, and from what she told me she grew up with stories about this bond. On the other hand, it probably took you a while to accept the reality of the situation."

The dark look he shot me told me I had hit on a truth there. He added, "I am still not fully convinced this is unalterable. However, for the time being I will treat it as such. Wishing it were not will not make the bond go away, and I am too old for deluding myself thus. Given the facts of the situation, I owe it to Miss Johnson and myself to try and find a way to live with this bond that is acceptable to both of us, small as the likelihood for something like that being feasible might seem."

__

He's already thinking in concepts like 'acceptable to both of us' ? That Zingsti is strong magic indeed ... I hid my surprise by munching on another spoonful of cereal. When the last traces of its delightful sweetness had left, I said, "All the same, I know it cannot be easy for you to adapt. You never liked being forced into something, and you have lived alone for years now ..." Truth be told, apart from a handful of casual flings I could not remember him ever having any serious relationship after Jennet had killed Miss Delleray in self-defence, and nowadays –I guessed the constant reminder of this in the form of Mister Longbottom's presence hurt him more than he would ever admit to anyone– he had stopped seeking female companionship altogether to the best of my knowledge.

He gave me a hint of a smile. "To say I _never liked being forced into something_ is like saying Mandrakes do not _like_ being pulled out of their pots and diced for use in potions. I bloody _hate_ it, Albus." Suddenly his voice took on an odd quality, as he continued, "And this bond is scaring me near witless to boot. When Miss Johnson is close to me, it stirs up all kinds of emotions and reactions in me that I never would have thought myself capable of. I do not know myself anymore, Albus. This magic is slowly sinking its root into my heart, robbing me of my self-control, threatening to lay my innermost self bare to a girl I hardly even know. And I can do nothing to stop it – I could push her away, but she made me realise that we are so tightly bonded that this would break her; and that I cannot do. Yet, I do not have the slightest idea how to get on with it, either." 

He took a deep breath. "Oh, but my body has all kind of ideas and suggestions about that for sure. I might act like I am cool and in control when I am around her, but the truth is that there is a hunger in me, a raw need for her touch and her presence –and yes, for her body too– that is gnawing at me day and night and slowly driving me insane. And she is making it worse by offering herself to me in the most direct manner, saying that she cannot withstand that urge any longer. I can understand that –if I am honest, I am not sure if I can keep it at bay for much longer myself– but does she even realise what it costs me to refuse her ? But I dare not do otherwise – were I to accept and give in to this need, I feel I would not be capable of any self-control anymore. And I do not want to rape her, Albus – and rape it would be, consented or not. I do not even know why I am caring so much for that girl, but damn it, I do ! And this is scaring me worst of all." His outburst finished as suddenly as it had begun, he stared into his teacup, tense and silent.

__

Oh dear. I had known that this Zingsti was powerful magic, but it seemed I had genuinely underestimated its scope. The mere fact that Severus had let himself go like that in front of me told me much about how deeply unsettled he was –this had never happened before, not even when he had returned from the bowels of the castle last year– and his words had added to that impression. _Just a single wrong word now, and he will snap closed again like an oyster._ Yet, I knew he deserved to hear nothing but the truth from me – I just hoped that I could tell it to him in a way that did not upset him too badly.

I tried to sound sincere and calm –I knew how he hated anything he deemed mushy– as I said, "You know, and I know that you do, that there is only one way out of this, Severus. I can understand that you do not like it." I sighed. "But if you want to avoid a scenario like the one you described –and the longer you wait, the more likely it is going to become– you will have to be honest with her. No more coolness, no more control. I know that your teacher's instinct is strong, but this situation is as new to you as it is to her. So let go of the notion that she must not become aware of the fact that you are overwhelmed by it, too. This is a life lesson, not a Potions lesson."

He looked up from his teacup then, his eyes even darker than usual. "Easier said than done, old man."

I nodded. "I know, Severus. Opening up is hard, and there is no basis of trust to build upon between you yet. But remember what you told me last year – 'Continuing on one's path is a lot easier when there is really no way but forward.' "

He scowled at me, but his words lacked bite as he said, "Trust you to throw my own stupid words back at me, old man. I was really at the end of my tether back then, you may recall."

I smiled a little. "As opposed to now ... ?"

He sighed. "Damn it, Albus, could you not be wrong on occasion ? It is a royal pain to debate with you."

"I take that as a compliment," I beamed back at him. 

He nodded, and got up. "It was, after a fashion. But please excuse me now, I really feel like flooing back to my quarters and trying to have a nap – probably a fruitless endeavour, but I will try regardless."

I hesitantly ventured, "How about if you," _dear me, how can I put this with someone as prickly as him ?_, "try and relieve some tension first ? Maybe that will help ..."

He shot me a dark look. "Very funny, old man. I did not even _relieve_ _tension_ so frequently when I was sixteen as I have done this week, for all it has helped me. There is dignity, and then there is stupidity. Occasional evidence to the contrary notwithstanding, I _can_ tell the difference." But the corners of his mouth twitched slightly as he said that, despite his stern tone.

I gave him my best beaming smile. "Have a pleasant morning then, Severus."

He knitted his brows in what failed to convince me to be true annoyance. "Thank you, Albus – and sooner or later I _shall_ get my hands on the hat and then I _shall_ have a nice little chat with it about you." And with these words, he turned around and flooed back to his dungeon rooms.

I kept sitting near the fire long after he was gone, staring at the glowing embers and then at the ashes. The morning light filtering through the windows was playing on them like I remembered it dancing on the leaves on the forest floor, uncaring that it was merrily illuminating the remains of what, once, had been alive. 

__

A/N : The sun/candle quote is Ser Loras Tyrell's, of GRRM's A Game Of Thrones. And of course Professor Xavier and Magneto were, in a way, the inspiration for Albus and Joshua.


End file.
